A Death Denied
by Padawan Aneiki R'hyvar
Summary: Set directly after AOTC. The Jedi purge has begun with a pair of mysterious murders. When Obi-Wan becomes the next victim of Sidious' rage, just how far will Anakin go to save his master's life?
1. Discovery

A Death Denied

Discovery

                "_I don't know if you want to hear these, but…they belonged to your father."_

                Luke replayed Mara Jade's words over in his mind as he slowly balanced the recording crystals in the palm of his hand.  It had been an almost surreal discovery; as the Emperor's Hand, Mara had been the keeper of many secrets and many things in the Empire.

                He didn't know that had extended to his father's journals.

                Well, at least some of them anyway.  She had come to him with the handful of crystals, explaining that she had kept the Emperor's private archives and they had been given to her with the stipulation that they never be released to anyone.  "I'm…not under that obligation any longer." She had said quietly.

                So it was that Luke had come here, to be alone with the voice of his father…a man redeemed, certainly but a man who had destroyed much before arriving at that redemption.  Hesitantly, he placed the first of the crystals into the player.

                "_My master is dying…"  Luke paused the recording even before the first sentence was finished, not through revulsion or nervousness, but simply to listen a moment with more than his ears.  The voice was young; in fact to Luke's ears it sounded younger than he himself was right now.  He asked the computer for a timestamp.  His mind raced, doing the math.  His father had been twenty years old at the time of this recording.  Swallowing a little, the last of the Jedi resumed play and waited to hear the rest of the tale Anakin Skywalker was about to tell…_

ONE

                "My master is dying and no one seems to know what to do." Anakin spoke slowly, dejectedly into the little voice coder that was his "diary" of sorts.  "And the Council won't let me try to help him!"

                He was pacing as he spoke, frustration evident in every step.  He knew what Master Obi-Wan would say if he were here; to release his emotions into the Force.  But he _wasn't_ here; that was the problem.  He was in the infirmary, hanging between life and death by a tenuous thread.  "I suppose I should start at the beginning." Anakin muttered into the coder.  "It started a couple weeks after Geonosis."

++++++

                Obi-Wan Kenobi made his way down the hallway, and Anakin Skywalker slowed his pace a little to match the halting steps.  His master's arm had healed quite nicely but the wound to his leg suffered at the hands of Count Dooku had been more troublesome.  The saber had driven deeply into the muscle, tearing and severing, and it was taking a long time to mend.  So it was that Kenobi was still making his way around with a cane, even though the healers said he would eventually make a full recovery.

                "You don't have to wait for me, you know." Obi-Wan told him, a bit peevishly.  Anakin let the comment slide; he knew that the slow recovery was annoying his master to no end, and that Obi-Wan would be fairly glad to pitch that cane out the nearest window when he no longer needed it.  "Well, you don't!"

                Now Anakin _did speak, but for a change it was without the sharp edge his voice had taken on just before and after Geonosis._

                "It's all right, Master.  It's no trouble."

                "It's trouble enough for me." Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at his apprentice.  "_Twice_ today I had younglings ask me if I was as old as Master Yoda because of this thing." He tapped the cane once disgustedly.  Despite his attempts to be understanding and supportive, Anakin was hard pressed not to laugh at that one.  A smirk stole across his face and, Obi-Wan was certain, there was likely a smart-aleck comment on the tip of his tongue. Suddenly the apprentice's mirth broke through his master's disgruntled mood and they both laughed, a rare enough occurrence these days.  Geonosis had taken much from all the Jedi who had fought there to free them and that weighed heavily on both their minds.  Master Obi-Wan, Anakin had observed, had taken the losses to heart.  For days afterward he had rarely eaten and slept even less, spending most of his time in meditation once the healers had released him.  Today however, except for his impatience to be well, his mood had improved greatly.  Anakin hoped to keep it that way.  Force knew it had been a hard three weeks.

                They walked on in companionable conversation, Anakin explaining in great detail to Obi-Wan the results of a sparring match between a pair of Knights practicing for a coming tournament.  For a brief moment the young padawan hesitated, knowing that his master had been set to participate in that tournament before the events of Geonosis, before the deaths of so many…  He blinked a little when Obi-Wan motioned him to continue the narrative, suddenly realizing that even though injury prevented the Jedi from participating in the contest, Obi-Wan was intensely interested in the outcome.  Something, Anakin supposed, a little more resembling what passed for normal life around here.

                The walk back to their quarters here in the Jedi Temple was a greater distance than Obi-Wan had originally judged; he had arrived at the Council Chambers with the aid of a hover-chair but had elected to walk on the way back, a decision he was beginning to regret.  By the time they reached their level, Anakin noticed that his master was limping heavily and leaning much harder on the cane.  But the stubborn Jedi refused to slow his pace any, convinced that he was already slower than a Goraspian snail.  The only indication of the Knight's discomfort however was a series of small, tight little grimaces in a mask of carefully controlled concentration.

                "Master…" Anakin hesitated to approach him, lest he destroy the rare mood between them.  Yet he did not like seeing his master suffer and it was clear that the injured leg was troubling Obi-Wan greatly.  "Are you…all right?"

                Obi-Wan looked up sharply, and his young charge cringed, no doubt expecting a sharp comment or two.  And he realized with a sudden soft sigh that the last month had been filled with too many such comments.  He could feel Anakin's concern and care radiating out to him; and as an afterthought almost, a cry to be needed.  Obi-Wan allowed the mask to fall away so his apprentice could see and feel his true condition.

                "It hurts pretty badly." He confessed, shifting his weight even as he spoke to lean hard on the cane.

                "Healer Obuk said you shouldn't press yourself so hard, Master."  Was that a chiding tone his padawan was taking with him?  Obi-Wan winced inwardly; had he ever been so impudent with Qui-Gon?  Yet he had to admit to himself that Anakin was right; he _had been pushing himself too hard.  His impatience was derailing his recovery._

                "Yes." Obi-Wan finally allowed.  "That he did."

                Emboldened by his master's sudden admission that he was indeed correct, Anakin quickly moved to link his arm with Obi-Wan's, allowing the tiring Jedi to lean on him as well as the cane in the other hand.

                "Let me help you, Master."

                Obi-Wan bristled for just a moment; he hated feeling like an invalid but as he shifted again to take another step, the shooting pain that coursed clear up to his hip made him clutch at Anakin's arm and to drop his misplaced pride.

                "Perhaps," He said with a trace of humility and a tender gasp at the unexpected pain, "That would be a good idea."

                Anakin paused, allowing Kenobi to collect himself before taking another step forward.  A few difficult paces later, Obi-Wan's breath hitched in his throat and Anakin stopped again, looking up into his master's face and suddenly alarmed by what he saw there.  A thin sheen of perspiration glistened on Obi-Wan's forehead and the color had long fled from his face.  Pain and exhaustion vied for his expression.

                "Master…" Without thinking, Anakin did what came naturally.  Reaching out into the Force, he quickly brought his mentor off his feet, cradling him in the Force almost as if he were carrying him with his physical arms, taking the burden off Obi-Wan's badly throbbing leg.

                "Anakin!" Kenobi said disapprovingly.  "You know what I've said about using the Force for—" His words died in his throat; young Skywalker's concentration was totally into the levitation, undivided by his master's protests.  It was a familiar lecture, but apparently in this case a futile one as Anakin directed him down the last few meters to their quarters.  A quick Force-wave toward the palm-lock opened the door and it wasn't until they were in Obi-Wan's sleeping area that Anakin carefully lowered him down, settling him onto his sleep couch.

                "There." Anakin breathed out, a little drained with the effort.  Obi-Wan gave him a wise look, even as his padawan set about fluffing up pillows and placing them behind his back and beneath his leg, elevating it a bit.

                "I'm not made of glass, Anakin." He said, his tone only half-heartedly reproving.  Anakin smiled at him a bit, unable to resist a little teasing now that they had made it back to their apartments.

                "No, but you _are_ made of a few rather quickly aging cells and it's my job to see to it that you don't fall apart before I'm knighted."  He made a small face at his master and to his relief Obi-Wan laughed and tugged lightly on Anakin's padawan braid.

                "I'm not _that old." Kenobi protested.  "At least, not yet."  From his position on the sleep couch he could just barely catch his reflection in the looking glass across the way.  His face hadn't changed __that much, he told himself.  The hair was a bit longer now, having lost the spiky cut he'd favored as an apprentice, brushed back against his temples.  The beard had been something of a surprise to some; he'd favored it over the clean-shaven look for the dual purpose of looking his age and for the simple reason that somehow it made him feel more like a mentor, a teacher; more like his _own_ master had been, really.  Had it truly been ten years?_

                "Would you like anything, Master Obi-Wan?" Anakin was speaking again and it shook him out of his self-examination.  "I'll get you some tea.  Master Gallia brought by some of that…ootorung stuff you like."

                Obi-Wan didn't protest; it actually sounded good and to be brutally honest he didn't think he could stand up at all on his own at the moment.  The leg was long past needing rest and he was sure he would hear about it from Obuk when next he was examined.  He nodded mutely, and with that approval Anakin disappeared to prepare the refreshment.

                Tea was something else he had adopted from his former Master, in particular the odd ootorung leaves that rarely appealed to anyone under twenty with their rather pungent scent and strong taste.  Master Qui-Gon had taken his black as night, savoring the exotic blend every night before meditations.  Drinking the stuff made Obi-Wan feel somehow closer to his mentor, now long joined with the Force.  The only addition for Obi-Wan was a drop or two of Alavi honey; even now after having become accustomed to the tea's peculiar flavor he still could not drink it black.  'Forgive me, Master.' He thought to amusedly to himself at the "sacrilege" he performed on Qui-Gon's customary routine each night.

                Obi-Wan could hear Anakin moving about in the kitchen and thought he caught a snatch of some tune being whistled.  Normally he might have been annoyed but it was such a welcome change from the padawan's usually brooding nature that he simply leaned his head back into his pillows and listened.  It was a simple melody, something Anakin had often hummed or whistled from his youngest days at the Temple; something that Obi-Wan had long since realized must have been a song from home, from Tatooine.  He closed his eyes and reached out into the Force, brushing up against a mind strongly shielded save for that gentle peace that the melody seemed to bring to his padawan's heart.

                For his own part, Anakin set about preparing the tea and a light supper for them both in case his master was hungry; it was a not-so-subtle hint that Obi-Wan still wasn't eating much and it worried him.  Already in the few weeks since Geonosis the Jedi Knight had lost a noticeable amount of weight, enough so that even Master Windu had commented to Anakin in private about it.

                He was still getting used to the prosthetic arm that had replaced his natural one after Geonosis, but when he bothered to slow down and take some time, he found that he was coordinated enough for most things. Even saber practice, which had taken him somewhat by surprise.  Harder were smaller, more complex motions that natural fingers simply did a better job at.  But he was mastering the new sensations a bit at a time, and they were becoming more second-nature to him as he went on.

                Carefully pouring the tea into a small ceramic and placing it along with the food on a tray, he bore the meal into his master's room with exaggerated care…

                …only to find Master Obi-Wan deeply asleep in the bed, the gentle rise and fall of his chest and relaxed features displaying the peacefulness of his slumber and Anakin could not help but smile.  Sleep had been something else his master had shortchanged himself on lately, and it was good to see him truly at rest, not disturbed by nightmares or the pain both mental and physical left over from Geonosis.  Those first few nights in the infirmary had been rough for them both, taking turns reaching out to one another in their pain, struggling to steady themselves between grief and understanding, both of them feeling horribly guilty for the deaths of those who had come to their rescue.

                "Your fault it is not." Yoda's reminder from that time in the healers' wing stung his memory and Anakin unconsciously nodded, lest his memories somehow trigger a disruption of his master's rest through the bond.  The Dark Side was rising, that much was clear and it was the fault of that bantha Dooku that so many Jedi had lost their lives that dark day.

                As quietly as he could, Anakin set the tray down on a nearby night table on the chance that Obi-Wan might want something to eat when he wakened.  Pulling a nearby blanket from a shelf, he shook it out and draped it over his master.

                "Rest well, my Master." He murmured softly and then silently slipped from the room.


	2. A Fear Revealed

TWO

                Pre-dawn on Coruscant was probably the closest the place ever came to being "quiet."  Few sky speeders, less noise.  Unlike Tatooine which was _always quiet.  Quiet and open and…lonely._

                He supposed he brought some of that along with him, that part of his soul that cried out for belonging.

                Anakin stood out on the balcony, watching the sun peek its first crimson rays over the horizon, and he thought of her.  Was she watching too?  The new session of the Senate was going to start soon, had she arrived to take part in person? Or was she still on Naboo where she had remained after their brief marriage ceremony?

                Closing his eyes, Anakin could see Padmé's face; could fairly taste her lips on his own but he shielded those thoughts tightly.  No one yet knew of their love, let alone of their marriage.  He had to protect her—for _her sake—keep their relationship hidden.  But in the darkness that caressed him on the moonless nights, he imagined her fingertips on his skin and the soft scent of her hair…_

                He could hear a bit of movement from within; perhaps Master Obi-Wan had awakened.  He'd looked in on his master twice during the night, and had been pleased to discover that at some point most of the food had been consumed along with a fair portion of the tea.  Light brushes against their bond when he'd first risen had told Anakin that his master's sleep had been a sound, good rest unlike so many previous evenings.

                Finally, maybe Obi-Wan would begin to mend now.

                Anakin ran his fingertips of his left hand down over the prosthetic appendages of his right.

                Maybe more than that; maybe they could begin to fix things now.  Their relationship had grown strained over the past year or so; it seemed like they butted heads more often than not.  It wasn't supposed to be like that, was it?  He looked at other padawans and their masters and saw something there that was missing with Obi-Wan lately.  Nothing he ever did seemed to be quite right.  Impatience with each other marked most conversations and more often than not Anakin felt like Obi-Wan _just didn't understand.  At all._

                He looked out over the waking city.  Geonosis seemed to have awakened something within the Jedi Order; and more, had seemed to loose something dark and brooding and…ugly on the universe.  Anakin shivered once in the early morning chill.  He had the sudden impression that if he and Obi-Wan could not come to an…understanding soon, they never would.  Anakin closed his eyes again, sighing in quiet desperation.  As frustrated as he often was, there was still a place in his heart that held the older Jedi as the only father he'd ever known.  As he stood there, gripping the balcony rail, he had to wonder as he had so many times before…

                Did Obi-Wan hold him as a son?  Or was that impossible?

                Maybe now, with the secrets he _must_ keep from his master at all costs, it was… 

                Inside the apartments, Obi-Wan Kenobi woke with a slow sigh.  Remembrance of the dream just eluded his grasp, but he distinctly remembered feeling safe and comfortable.  A good dream, surely.  He tried to shift a little; found himself faced with the familiar morning battle.  The pain had long since faded from his healing leg but a different bother had settled in overnight; a stiffness that left him feeling like he had a limb made of heavy wood rather than flesh and blood.

                With a grunt, he sat up and swung both legs over the side of the sleep couch, slowly beginning the stretching techniques he'd been shown in physical therapy sessions by Healer Obuk's apprentice.  Little stabs of discomfort, but not anything near like what he'd experienced yesterday, reminded him that things were still tender in there but slowly the muscle began to loosen.

                "Good morning, Master." Anakin's voice in the common room; no doubt his apprentice had been up for some hours already; he was naturally an early riser, much like Qui-Gon had been.  Obi-Wan had never been much of a morning person; he had always been much more suited to late nights than predawn exercises and meditation.  But a master could not be outdone by his apprentice, and so he had cultivated the habit of rising with the sun over a period of some months.  While he was not likely to be the most upbeat person at seven past a sunbeam, he was at least conditioned to it.

                A sudden tang wafted into his bedchamber and Obi-Wan recognized it as the scent of fresh-brewing tea.  He smiled a little bit; it seemed like ever since their release from the infirmary that Anakin—who could so often be self-absorbed—had been going almost out of his way to step outside himself and reach out to Obi-Wan.  Not that Obi-Wan wanted to hold it over him or to be "nursemaid-ed" (Anakin had rolled his eyes at that one) but rather was simply pleased that there seemed to be less of the bitterness his apprentice had been carrying around for quite some time.  And sometimes, as in yesterday's case, Anakin's increased attention had turned out to be more than necessary.

                Groping along the floor for the hated cane, Obi-Wan grasped it and levered himself up from the sleep couch, testing the readiness of his leg to support his weight.  Satisfied, he picked up the tray from the previous evening with his free hand and made his way out to the tiny kitchen.

                Anakin looked up at his approach; taking note that Obi-Wan's limp was much less pronounced despite a bit of stiffness to his gait.  That would wear off a bit as the leg loosened.

                "Did you rest well, Padawan?" Kenobi settled himself gingerly at the small table they shared, already feeling some of the stiffness beginning to leave.  He glanced down in some embarrassment, still wearing the same tunic and pants of the day before.  "Apparently I did."

                Anakin took in his master's disheveled appearance with a slight smirk.

                "I know." His tone was assured enough that Obi-Wan knew that he'd been checked on during the night.  Smothering a slight yawn, the Jedi Knight allowed a smile of his own.

                "Thank you, Anakin." Kenobi's voice and expression were both suddenly softly serious, and much as he used to do with Qui-Gon, Anakin abruptly dropped his head, a slight flush creeping up on his youthful features.  It was uncharacteristic of the normally self-confident apprentice but not unwelcome.  Too often the boy leaned towards arrogance, which would only hinder his progress toward Knighthood rather than help it.

                "It was nothing, Master." He raised his gaze now and his expression was open and honest.  "I'm glad you're feeling better."

                Obi-Wan found himself responding warmly through the bond, the first such fatherly expression since the battle three weeks ago.

                "I do." He realized, even as he spoke the words.  "I really do."

                That wicked grin again from Anakin now, a touch of his normal self peeking through, and Obi-Wan shook his head just slightly.

                "Sometimes I know what I'm doing, Master."  He crossed over to the table with a ceramic of tea; in his metallic right hand, there was no sense of burning.  "I think you should stay here today.  Sith with anything else."

                "Anakin…" Obi-Wan sighed softly.  "It's been three weeks.  There are things I'm expected to—"

                "But you're not ready yet!" Anakin insisted, a bit of his stubborn side coming through.  "Even Master Yoda said—"

                "Anakin, mind your place." Obi-Wan said firmly.  He did not want to disrupt the tentative, shaky bridge that had been built between them during their recovery, but neither could he allow the boy to be carried off by his emotions.  Anakin was a tempestuous youth, easily given to crossing the line between using his feelings to operate through the Force and recklessly acting on spikes of emotion before thinking.  Softening his tone, he continued, "The Order lost many Jedi on Geonosis, young Padawan.  There are few enough of us to…hold things together as it is.  And I know you've felt this…growing disturbance…"

                Anakin had dropped his gaze at Obi-Wan's rebuff, the familiar feeling of frustration beginning to return.  But his master's explanation did a little to soften the blow, for once, and he looked back up to try to explain his own viewpoint once more.

                "I just…don't want you to…" He stopped, feeling awkward and clumsy trying to explain how he felt.  Obi-Wan looked up, startled, as he caught a hint of the fear behind his padawan's eyes.

                "You're afraid you'll lose me."  It was a statement, not a question.  "Like you lost your mother."

                Anakin quickly clamped down on his shields; that Obi-Wan had divined that much from his thoughts was too much.  He still had not spoken of the raid on the Tusken camp to anyone other than Padmé, fearing the implications if his master—or worse, the Jedi Council—were to find out.

"Yes." He said simply as he looked away; there was no use hiding that much, especially since Obi-Wan already knew it to be the truth.  What he missed seeing was the look of surprise that flashed across his master's face.

"I didn't know." Kenobi said as gently as he could.  Reaching up, he accepted the tea from his apprentice, both of them having forgotten about it in the heat of the moment.  As he did so, he made it a point to run his fingers across the back of the metallic hand.  "How are _you_ feeling?  You've kept yourself almost as closed off about your recovery as I have complained about mine."

Anakin looked up, a little surprised at the question.  Obi-Wan cupped the tea in both hands now, his fingers seeking the heat from the ceramic, but his eyes fixed on his padawan were seeking something else.

"I—I don't—"Anakin struggled to come up with a response.

"Maybe you're right, my Padawan." Obi-Wan purposely used the affectionate possessive of the term although he kept his voice light and relaxed, and in the slight pause that followed took a tentative sip of the still steaming tea.  "You've been worrying about your decrepit Master far too much lately; perhaps a day on our own would be good.  So long…" He held up a hand at his apprentice's suddenly brightening features. "…as you work on your composition for Master Wei-Le later.  Deal?"

"Yes, Master!" Anakin was visibly relieved, and then a small smile stole across his face.  "Decrepit? I thought you said you weren't that old yet, Master?"  The youth lightly flung his words back at him, his expression amused.  "Ok, ok…maybe not as old as Master Yoda…maybe just Isha-Rhan."

"Isha-Rhan is a hundred and fifty!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, reaching over to yank Anakin's braid.  Obi-Wan's age had been a running joke between them for quite some time now; he now realized the error on his part of telling his padawan about the younglings yesterday.  In reality they were only separated by fifteen years; Obi-Wan just having turned thirty-five and Anakin a very restless twenty.  Accepting Anakin as his Padawan at the age of twenty-five had made him one of the youngest teaching Knights in the Order actually, something that had not gone unnoticed by many.

"Well if it makes you feel any better, Master, when you're old and gray and sitting on the Council I'm sure I'll have an apprentice who's as just as rude and twice as obnoxious as I am." Anakin started rummaging around for some breakfast; he'd waited long enough.

Obi-Wan simply smiled and drank his tea.


	3. Of Padawans, Masters, And Invitations

THREE

                Patience.  It was a talent more than a virtue, Palpatine believed.  Something to his way of thinking that the Jedi had cultivated but not perfected, studied but not truly understood, practiced but never mastered.  Patience was his ally even more so than the Force's dark side at times, and he gloried in it, in the intuitive knowledge of just how long to wait before acting, knowing exactly when to speak and the right moment to influence an opinion and also when to sit back and watch the results of that influence unfold.

                Geonosis had been a bold stroke, the exact machination necessary to vault him to the position he now held.  Supreme Chancellor was pale in comparison to the "Lord Protector" role he now played, with the clone army as his chief means of "protecting" the Republic against the Separatists.  In that, patience had been rewarded.  In Dooku's failure to eliminate the Jedi Council during the battle, however, patience was coming soon to an end.  It would have been expedient for the battle to have exterminated the Council; certainly it would have played easier to the Senate and the Republic at large to hear that those sad deaths had been in the line of duty, protecting the peace of the Republic.

Patience dictated that the sweeping away of the entire Order would come in due course.  The brewing war…in which Geonosis had been but the match-strike against a fuse…would eliminate most of them over time.  Fewer Jedi plus more conflicts equaled fewer Jedi still; simple math really.  However the elimination of many of the higher-profile Jedi and members of the Council would have to be handled more shrewdly, and for this he must strike at the precise moment necessary, and it must be soon.  Dooku was beginning the Death Star project hidden in the Outer Rim worlds of Jastas Prime.  The Jedi Council was becoming less and less able to discern what the Force was fairly shouting at them; the rise of the Dark Side was slowly smothering its voice.  Yet still powerful they were; and if he was not careful all would be destroyed.

                He would begin just beneath the Council, with a key core of Jedi Masters…

++++++

                "…and then he said I was just the padawan to make an example of.  Sithspit, I don't think I ever ached so much in my whole life but I learned my lesson, even if it was the hard way."

                Anakin laughed a little at the tale Obi-Wan told, a story from his own early years of apprenticeship under Qui-Gon Jinn.  Breakfast had been something of an easy-going affair, the conversation seemingly light but Obi-Wan had given it some direction.  There were deeper things he wished to touch on with Anakin, but he sensed he must approach them gently and so had begun with some good-natured banter, which then slid smoothly into the current discussion of Obi-Wan's apprenticeship.

                "You?" Anakin shook his head a little as if trying to get a grasp on it.  "You, the perfect master, were such a troublemaker as a Padawan?  I find that hard to believe."

                The tone was light but the accusation inherent in it stung Obi-Wan to the core.  However it was after all one of the things he wanted to speak with Anakin about.  For some time now it had concerned him that his padawan's perceptions were skewed slightly; discipline misunderstood as harshness, and correction viewed as personal disapproval.  They were dangerous misconceptions that could lead to open rebellion given the right situation, and Force knew how close they'd come to it at Geonosis during the pursuit of Count Dooku.

The revelation of Anakin's fear of losing him had prompted him to this discussion with the intention not of feeding the arrogant part of his apprentice but the lonely, awkward, passionate part that the arrogance disguised.  The part that would briefly flash in his eyes after yet another argument, or during troubled meditations, the restless place in his soul that told him he truly did not belong here, exceptional talents or not.  The part that, like all living beings, desired to know his worth.

                "Oh, you can quite well believe it, Anakin.  I'm hardly perfect." Obi-Wan shook his head slightly.  "And when Master Qui-Gon heard about it, I figured it was my last day alive at the Temple."

                "You still miss him, don't you Master?"  It was more an observance than a real question, and Obi-Wan felt his heart take a sudden drop.  More than just moving away from his intended direction for their conversation, it slammed the door of truth down rather hard on unsuspecting feelings.

                Obi-Wan found himself glancing away, blinking back the sudden unexpected moisture in his eyes.  Ten years come and gone and while he had gained much in the ways of the Force and of maturity, he had never completely lost the raw ache of Qui-Gon's death at the hands of the Sith.

                "Qui-Gon is one with the—"The answer was mechanical, practiced…familiar.

                "I didn't ask you that!" Anakin's sharper tone was like a slap and Obi-Wan snapped around to lock gazes with him.  "I asked you if _you, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, still miss him."  They held each other's eyes for a long moment, one pair blue-gray and one pair intensely blue charged with emotions.  Suddenly Obi-Wan's expression softened a little and he nodded once._

                "Sometimes." He admitted.  "Sometimes it almost feels like it never happened; that it's always been this way." Kenobi waved his hand briefly, indicating that even their quarters reflected more of Jedi Knight Kenobi rather than the Padawan he once had been.  "Almost like he never existed.  Other times…" Obi-Wan's voice thickened with sorrow, taking them both by surprise.  "I miss him very much.  Everything around me reminds me of my Master.  Even you.  Especially you."

                "Because of your promise?" Anakin's voice was hesitant; he knew that his master had once disagreed to his training and had never quite forgotten that his place now was owed to the words of a dying man.

                "No, it's not that…" Obi-Wan hesitated. Well that wasn't exactly true; he cherished that promise now as one last trust given to him by his master, mentor and friend.  "Anakin my promise to train you was the only thing I could give him before he joined the Force, so of course it is important to me.  But it is his _faith that you remind me of.  Everything he believed in…everything he saw in you…" Obi-Wan allowed his voice to trail off; searching for the right words._

                "And what do you see, Master?" Anakin asked softly, almost hesitantly.  It was that piece of him that needed to know…

                "For a long time I saw nothing but my own grief." Obi-Wan answered him bluntly, but not unkindly.  "It colored everything I did with you that first year.  How much of that you understood back then I don't know, but you didn't deserve it."  He paused a moment, watching Anakin's face carefully.  "Anakin…you are my _Padawan.  I don't expect you to be perfect.  I don't expect you to act like Qui-Gon, or 'The Chosen One.'  Force, I don't even expect you to act like me.  What I __do expect is for you to be the best Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight that you can."  Obi-Wan waited a moment more, allowing his words to register with his apprentice before continuing.  "The goal of your training is not to turn you into dry prophecy but to make of you a true Jedi…Keeper of the peace and servant of the Force.  What I believe is—"_

                The door chime sounded just then, cutting Obi-Wan off and derailing his train of thought.  He wanted to pursue these matters further, but apparently the Force had other things in mind for this moment in time.  Anakin stood first, but Obi-Wan waved him off and pushed up from the table, finding his leg again stiff with the passage of time and lack of motion.  Grasping the cane firmly, he made his way to the common area and palmed open the security switch.

                Just a split second before the door opened, Anakin had a sudden sense of who was on the other side, and he bolted into the common area…

                …just as the door slid aside to reveal Senator Padmé Naberrie Amidala.

                It took several seconds for Obi-Wan's brain to catch up to what his eyes were telling it; the Senator's presence was most unexpected indeed.  Those few moments however were all he got before the girl fairly launched herself at him in a huge bear hug.

                "Master Kenobi!" She exclaimed, truly happy to see her friend.  For all her slender weight however, her greeting was fierce enough to unbalance the Jedi and cause him to stumble backwards several steps, gasping once in pain at the sudden extra demands on the injured leg.  Instantly Padmé withdrew, instinctively reaching out with one hand to steady Obi-Wan.  "My apologies, Master Jedi.  I did not realize you were still not well."

                "I'm fine, milady." Obi-Wan answered quickly.  "You did me no harm…and it is good to see you.  Please, come in."  He steered himself a little further into the common area, allowing her passage.  She took note of the cane but said nothing; belatedly she remembered Anakin's last communication to her had said something about Obi-Wan's leg injury taking longer to heal than first expected.  Even so, Kenobi waited graciously for her to take a seat before sitting down in a chair opposite her despite his somewhat hobbled condition.

                "I'm not usually so…informal, either." Padmé answered by way of further apology.  Her gaze strayed to where Anakin stood a few paces away, watching her silently, hardly daring to breathe.  "But after…recent events I am grateful and glad to see you both again.  And…I've come to personally deliver an invitation to you."

                It was then that both master and apprentice suddenly realized that Padmé had come by herself, no entourage, no staff, and no guards.  Free from watchful eyes, she had shed her normally reserved decorous self to express her joy at seeing them properly.

                "That might not have been wise, milady." Obi-Wan observed pointedly.  "The times are still dangerous; Nute Gunray still means to have your head."

                "Master Obi-Wan is right." Anakin put in hastily, his expression somewhat distressed.  "You should be more careful, Padmé…"

                "Fear not, brave Jedi." A slight twinkle appeared in Amidala's eyes now and she favored her husband with a small smile.  "Captain Typho is waiting for me downstairs; I only came up from the main floor on my own.  What trouble could come to me in the Jedi Temple?"

                "Still…" Obi-Wan pressed the point.  "Please be more careful, Senator.  Our enemies are still at large, and all it takes is a moment's distraction…"  He glanced up to where his padawan stood, his expression reinforcing the words he spoke to both of them.  Anakin nodded immediately.

                "I'll see you to the Captain when you are ready to go." He inclined his head respectfully after the Jedi tradition, knowing that as much as he longed to sweep her up into his arms that he wasn't exactly free to do that with his master sitting not more than three feet away.  Padmé nodded, as much an acknowledgement of the same yearning as it was an acceptance of Obi-Wan's counsel.

                "You're right of course." She deferred gracefully to Anakin, while meeting Obi-Wan's gaze.  "I accept your help…" Padmé smiled now.  "…_If_ you'll accept my invitation."

                "That's twice you've said that." Kenobi raised curious eyebrows, the only prompting he would give her.

                "I have requested of the Council that you be my special guests at the Hall of Naboo in two days' time."

                Obi-Wan sat back a little now, and blinked a bit.

                "Special guests?" He echoed.

                "For a small reception, Master Jedi.  The Queen wishes to thank you and your Padawan for your recent…efforts to protect my life, and I have been sent to request your presence to receive her honors."

                Obi-Wan shifted slightly, uncomfortably.  It did not go unnoticed by Anakin, who said nothing but merely watched his master carefully, awaiting a response.  He dared not let hope rise just yet, but an evening in the presence of his wife, even in an official capacity and unable to recognize her as such, would be preferable to an evening with her existing only in his thoughts…

                Drawing a deep breath at last, Obi-Wan nodded.

                "Of course, we will attend." He bowed his head in deference to her position.  "Please…leave the particulars with Anakin.  If I may be excused milady?"  Obi-Wan rose with some care and Anakin traded silent concerned glances with Padmé.  It was rather unlike the Jedi to be less than dutiful, uncomfortable or not.  But as Obi-Wan limped slowly back to his own room, they could not help but wonder if their secret so soon was out, and Padmé shivered slightly, trying to keep her thoughts from bleeding into open air as Anakin had taught her.

                "What's wrong?" She whispered quietly once the door to the Jedi Knight's room had closed.  Anakin came closer and sat beside her on the couch, shaking his head in silent worry.

                "I don't know, Padmé." He finally answered, his forehead scrunching up into a tight frown.  "I don't know."


	4. An Inward Puzzle

Ahhh, now that we are back up and running, I have more for you!  Two more chapters, hot off the press so to speak. Feedback always appreciated…and hopefully get to "A Time To Live And A Time To Die" sometime this week I will, too. :D

FOUR

                Obi-Wan wasn't all that sure he could put a finger on what exactly bothered him, either.  It was one of those small nudges that he had learned to listen to over the years, not quite a true disturbance in the Force, yet something slightly more than intuition.

                It was the hallmark, he knew, of those whose gifts lay with the Unifying Force; past and future flowing easily to him to show him truths others might not see.  If Qui-Gon were here, however he likely would tell Obi-Wan to focus and seek his answers from the Living Force, the will of the Force in the current moment.  His master's strengths had always lain in listening to the deep-seated thrum of life that the Force reflected all around them.  Its living pulse had been Qui-Gon's constant companion and guide.  Even in the end, cradled in his Padawan's arms, Qui-Gon had been true to what he felt the Force was speaking to him as he breathed his last.

                Limping over to the window that looked out from his quarters, Obi-Wan gazed at the afternoon bustle of Coruscant and exhaled slowly, letting his mind empty of fretful thoughts, of his conversation with Anakin and the concerns he had wished to address.  Thoughtfully he turned this small warning nudge over in his mind, considering carefully just exactly what it was about Padme's request that had raised it in the back of his mind.

                The Hall of Naboo was not far from the Senate Chambers themselves, a large ambassadorial building that housed several of the officials and their staffs from Padme's home world.  There was nothing inherently worrisome about that; at least not beyond the usual mingling with dignitaries and "public servants" that so often served themselves rather than the public.  "Honor among thieves" was not something he normally associated with politicians.  Still there was something about this request that made him…almost shiver in discomfort; an anticipation of something untoward in the air.

                That the Council should have granted Amidala's request in the first place was something of an oddity; "A Jedi seeks not reward for that which only his duty is," Yoda had drilled into him enough times.  "His reward from the Force will he receive."  But even that, Obi-Wan thought, was not enough to make him feel like this.

                Closing his eyes from the outside world, he breathed deeply and reached out to feel around him, to center his focus on the Living Force.  Perhaps its vibrant touch around him would provide him with some sort of answer to his question.  Immediately he was enveloped in its rich warmth and as always he basked in it, almost like a greeting of sorts before continuing his quest.

                Like a second heartbeat, he could feel the lifeforces of his apprentice and Senator Amidala in the outer room, and the buzz of beings near and far throughout the city, their lives a rhythm unto itself.  It rolled over him in waves, ebbing, swelling, rising to a crescendo and then crashing back into the steady thrum around them all.

                In his mind's eye, he journeyed to the Hall of Naboo, its imposing structure rising straight up with a domed roof much like the palace in Theed…

                Obi-Wan flinched inwardly as if he'd been slapped.  He hadn't set foot in Theed since that dark day Qui-Gon's body had been burned in memorial.  Thanks to Anakin's directness earlier, today would be one of those days that everything reminded him of his loss, the sacrifice to peace Qui-Gon Jinn had become all those years ago.  He took a moment to examine that rush of feeling, of thought.  Did that have to do with his unease?  And if so, Obi-Wan knew he had to squash it before it influenced his behavior as a Jedi Knight; if this was to be his duty, then to this reception he would go.

                "There is no death, there is only the Force." He murmured softly, his lips barely moving as he recited the adage from the Code.  Once more, as he had done so often in the past decade, he released his sorrow into the Force and received its peace in return.  It never failed to comfort him to remember that Qui-Gon was *part* of that peace now and so in a very real sense was caring for his padawan still.

                After a moment's longer reflection, Obi-Wan decided that it was not from within that this disquiet was coming but from without…but from *where?*  Once again his mind turned to the Council, and with the return of that thought came the idea that perhaps he was mistaken, maybe the answer he sought *did* indeed lie with them.  A moment's peace stole through him, confirming in his mind that he should indeed take this up with the Council…or at the very least, with Master Yoda.  The diminutive Jedi had never failed to be available to Obi-Wan in the years since Qui-Gon's death, partly for Anakin's sake but also he knew, for his sake as well.

                Yes.  He would speak with Master Yoda.

                Resolved so, he limped back out into the outer room, where Padme was just rising to her feet to take her leave.  He stopped short a moment, feeling suddenly rather rude, and he bowed slightly.

                "Milady." He said softly. "Please forgive my inattention, my apologies."

                "None are needed, Master Jedi." She favored Obi-Wan with one of her bright smiles.  "I look forward to seeing you again two days from now."  Obi-Wan bowed again in farewell; when he straightened his gaze was on his apprentice. 

"When you return from escorting the Senator below, Anakin, you should start in with your work for Master Wei-Le.  I'll be back shortly; I need to speak with Master Yoda."

                "Master Yoda…" Anakin echoed, and then frowned heavily.  "But what about our day?  You said—"

                "We'll see to that on my return, my young Padawan.  In the meantime, at least you will have your project started." Obi-Wan soothed, not wishing to get into another battle of wits at the present moment.  Anakin cast his gaze aside, obviously a little disappointed.

                "Yes, Master."

                With that, Obi-Wan made his way from their quarters, so intent on his purpose that he failed to see the worried, anxious glance that his apprentice and the Senator traded.  His mind was occupied with the near future, and as Qui-Gon might have observed, was totally missing the moment.  But to the two younger ones he was leaving in his wake, the moment was everything.

                Alone at last, Anakin wasted no time in drawing his wife into his arms.  His Jedi senses were completely focused on the front door so as not to be taken by surprise should Obi-Wan unexpectedly return, but his physical ones…his physical senses were awash in *her*.  The scent of her hair, the softness of her skin, the way she nestled herself against him all filled him with a fresh sense of awe over his love, his _wife.  His life-breath that he must now cherish in secret, hidden away from all the galaxy in general and from the Jedi Order in particular._

                "I've missed you." He murmured into her hair, leaning down to brush kisses along her forehead and face down to her lips, meeting them in total surrender to the love that had drawn them together.  "Three weeks might as well have been three years."

                "I know…I've missed you too, Ani."  Padme pulled back a little now, reaching up to caress her husband's face with her fingertips and he turned his head to kiss them lightly before she ran them up into his short spiked sandy locks.  A moment later a playful smile crossed her lips and she pulled lightly at his padawan's braid.  "I wish we had more time…"

                "Me too." Anakin whispered into her ear as he gathered her close once more, needing to feel her next to him.

                "…but the Captain is waiting for me." Padme finally pulled away now, her eyes glistening a little.  "We'll find time, Ani, I promise.  The Senate doesn't open session for another few weeks, we'll find time."

                "And after it starts?" Anakin said tremulously.

                "We'll figure it out as we go along." Padme smiled at him and somehow that seemed to make the world alright.  Anakin smiled back at her and laced his fingers with hers, bringing her hand to his lips with a soft kiss.

                They exited the apartments, and found themselves fairly alone in the corridor.  Padme hesitated to ask, but she had to know.  "Do you…think he knows, Ani?"

                Anakin hesitated briefly.  Obi-Wan's behavior of a few minutes ago was certainly unlike his normal self; his master was many things but 'inattentive,' as Obi-Wan had put it himself, was not generally one of them.  For a moment he considered his master's actions and tried to marry them with the general sense he had of Obi-Wan through the bond.

                "No.  He doesn't." He said a moment later, his voice both relieved and curious at the same time.  "At least…it doesn't feel like it."  There was definitely something pressing on the Jedi's mind but his padawan was unable to sense exactly what was so troubling.

                Any further discussion of their secretive existence as husband and wife would have to wait for another time; they were coming to some of the busier sections of the Temple on their way to the main reception hall, where they might be overheard.  So their talk drifted onto other topics, until finally they found themselves in the great hall where Captain Typho awaited.  Anakin was intensely aware of everyone passing them by; Jedi and Padawans and Initiates and even a clan from the crèche and their master on the way to a session with Master Yoda were all coming and going around them.  No opportunity for a tender farewell; that was certain.  Padme was mindful as well; she had drifted almost two full paces away from him, and understanding her intention, Anakin had allowed himself to follow behind at a discreet pace.

                "Jedi Skywalker." Typho greeted cheerfully, despite the fact that Anakin was still a distance from the Trials yet according to Master Obi-Wan, let alone the status of Jedi Knight.  "It is good to see you again.  I was glad to hear that both you and Master Kenobi survived the battle."  Unspoken was the fact that so many others had not.  Anakin remembered himself and he bowed slightly toward the security captain.

                "Thank you, Captain.  The Force gave that to us."

                "We will speak again soon, Ani." Padme said softly, and then motioned for the Captain to accompany her, and Anakin watched her walk from the hall, his throat constricting a little in longing and in love, her beauty filling his mind.  When she had disappeared from his sight, he started on his way back; Master Obi-Wan would be expecting some sort of progress on his assignment so he might as well get started with it.


	5. A Voice Silenced

FIVE

                "What progress have you made?"

                As always the voice was frosty, but efficient and it never failed to make Ich'im shiver, no matter how warm it was.  He waited a beat before turning toward its owner however; he would not allow the intimidation to touch him.  He worked the way he worked and if current employer didn't appreciate his methods, there were plenty of potential employers who would.

                Assassins, it would seem, rarely suffered from job shortages.

                "It's coming along nicely but I don't think it's ready yet.  These samples you gave me are still proving to be too resistant to it; too much risk of failure.  Take a look for yourself."  The dark-hooded figure drew closer, looking where Ich'im directed his gaze with a fingertip.  "See?  Here it's progressing just like it's supposed to…but here…there's actually a slow reversal going on there."  Ich'im shrugged a bit. "It's just a matter of time; just have to find the right balance of properties.  And, of course, a sample from the host to work from.  Can't match without one."

                "Hmm…" The slight exhalation of the hooded figure was at first his only observance.  Then Ich'im's employer turned and paced a few steps away.  "I wanted to move forward quickly with this.  You can delay no longer."

                "Oh I wasn't planning on using this until it's ready.  There are all kinds of ways to kill, milord."  Ich'im resisted the impulse to roll his eyes at the "milord."  Gods knew he had about as much respect for this employer as he was likely to have, but that still wasn't much.  Not enough at any rate for the assassin to consider him any better than anyone else.  He really hated that.  The best part of his job was bringing everybody down to the same level.  After all; death claimed them all eventually.  Highborn, lowborn, working class, smuggler, politician…Jedi; death embraced them all equally with the same cold kiss with no regard for what they had been in life.

                Just some deaths allowed him to live a little bit more comfortable life than he might have otherwise.

                "Very well then.  Continue your work but you know your deadline."

                "Sure.  No problem."  Ich'im shrugged kinks out of his shoulders.  "You'll get your money's worth, milord.  Believe me, you will."

                "It will go well with you if that is so."  With that, the cloaked figure departed, leaving a distinct chill in the air in his wake.  Implicit but unspoken was the rest of his sentence…_not so well if it isn't…_

                Shaking the thoughts aside, Ich'im returned to his work.

++++++

                "Attention to your feelings you should pay, Obi-Wan, but decided the Council has."  Yoda leaned on his gimer stick as he watched the younger Jedi pace a bit before him.  To his left, Mace Windu was leaning on a nearby pillar and taking in the discussion.  Obi-Wan had come to them and explained his misgivings, even going so far as to evoke the Code's teachings against seeking personal reward as a possible explanation for his discomfort.  "Go you must."

                "While it's true that the Order has no interest in such things, there is growing hostility toward Jedi in several key systems; there is even some anti-Jedi sentiment here in the Core Worlds and it's on the rise."  Mace elaborated where Yoda had not.  "Some goodwill from a core system like Naboo would help counter it."

                "A simple ceremony and a bauble won't fix that."  Obi-Wan protested, feeling deep in his gut that the Council was grasping at straws here and that shook him to his core.  "Besides, the Order has stood for millennia without the help of public opinion.  We're called to be peacekeepers, not political puppets."

                "True it is that with the outward appearance of things concerned the Force is not." Yoda conceded, yet fixed Obi-Wan with a pointed look.  "But changed everything, Geonosis has.  Rising against us the Dark Side is; use hate and mistrust as weapons it will."

                "But Master Yoda, there have always been myths and superstitions surrounding the Order among those who don't understand."  Kenobi felt his argument losing strength, yet he wanted to know—_needed to know—where the Council was coming from._

                "Yes, this is so." Mace spread his hands out in a conciliatory gesture, knowing that this didn't sit right with the Jedi before them.  "But never to this degree, and never this widespread in the Senate."

                "The Senate-?" Obi-Wan echoed, his ginger brows tucking into a deep, perplexed frown.  "What's happened?"

                "Our failure to see the infiltration of Geonosis by the Separatists is being called into question by some members of the Senate.  There is a motion on the floor that would place the Jedi Order under severe restrictions and there is beginning to be some support for it."

                "Let me guess."  Obi-Wan muttered, trying to keep the disgust from his voice and failing miserably.  "Nute Gunray and the Trade Federation have found someone to speak for them."  Now that the Separatists had engaged them in battle and their allied senators had all withdrawn from the Senate, it had to be assumed that some of them—if not all of them—still had some supporters within the governing body who wavered on dissent themselves.

                "By Malastare supported they are." Yoda confirmed.  Kenobi shook his head, unable to hide his irritation.

                "It's a wonder that Corellian yng toad has survived all of this when so many Jedi have not."

                "Careful you must be, Obi-Wan." Yoda chided gently.  "Lost much we have, but lose still more we would if to the Dark Side you listen."

                Obi-Wan mentally admonished himself; he should have known better—he _did know better.  Pulling in a deep breath, he slowly exhaled and allowed his frustrations to be carried away to the Force.  "Hmm…" Yoda nodded his approval as Kenobi's center came back into focus._

                But that small warning flag was still up; nothing the Masters had said had changed that.  If anything it had made it worse.  Obi-Wan could not suppress the small chill that stole through his body.  Yet, if this was the course of action the Council wished him to take, then so be it.

                "Thank you for your time, Masters." He bid them farewell with a small bow, then retreated from the room, his robe swaying about him with his uneven footsteps and the light tap of the cane heralding his approach into the adjoining corridor.

                "Hmm…" Yoda closed his eyes, stretching out, feeling…probing, searching.  "Difficult to see, the cause of Obi-Wan's distress; know for certain if valid it is I do not."

                "His instincts are good." Mace commented, straightening away from the pillar and coming to sit next to his Council peer.  "Obi-Wan has always had one of the sharpest minds in the Order; I'd say that if something's bothering him it's worth listening to."

                "Hmm…agree with you I do." Yoda opened his eyes again and met the worried expression of the man sitting next to him.  "Dangerous the times have become.  Clear our minds must be if the will of the Force we would hear."

++++++

                Obi-Wan knew he should go back and check on Anakin's progress and to keep his promise, but he wasn't quite ready to set this aside just yet.  It worried him that the Council seemed to be so…so what?  Inflexible? Well, no they had always been that.  The Code was in place for a reason after all.  No…it was something else, something dancing on the edge of his grasp.

                His leg was beginning to hurt, the familiar ache reminding him rather insistently that it was time to rest.  He wasn't anywhere near the apartments level but he _was_ fairly close to the meditation gardens and impulsively he decided to go in.

                The Jedi instantly felt the peaceful aura of the place wash over him at his entrance, and he paused a moment to appreciate it before moving on.  The little grove that was his favorite was far along the path; too far for his leg to withstand.  So Obi-Wan chose a small shadowed nook close to the entryway, still concealed but a little easier accessed.

                Knowing it would be a harder job getting up than getting down; Obi-Wan used the cane for balance and then carefully dropped down into the lush but perfectly manicured grass.  Instantly the scent of kawele flowers and shaffa root reached him, and he breathed the heady scent in deeply.  The gardens here were always a refuge, his favorite place in the entire Temple.  The Living Force echoed in every blade of grass, every small shrub, every flower petal.  Sitting there awash in the Force and kawele flowers, he closed his eyes and focused, the familiar embrace of the Force coming to him in meditation.

                He didn't have long to wait before a partial answer came to him, an answer he would have never really considered before.

                An answer that left him thoroughly chilled.

                The Council was blind in this matter.  They couldn't advise him on this danger because they could not _see it. How he knew it, he wasn't quite sure but he felt instinctively that he was right.  Despite the relative warmth of the gardens, Obi-Wan drew his robe about himself as an uncomfortable shiver passed through his frame._

                What did this mean?

++++++

                Anakin tossed aside the datapad with some frustration; his mind was not even close to focused on the task at hand, despite trying to clear his thoughts and order them after the manner that Master Obi-Wan had taught him.  He had learned long ago that when he was _this restless that it was no good trying to tame it; it might work for other Jedi—might work for his master—but he had to actively work it off._

                Getting up, he paced about the room somewhat like a caged nexu.  He could have been spending this time with Padmé for pity's sake; instead he was waiting for his master to return as if he was still seven. Or seventeen. Or…how much longer would it be before Obi-Wan finally set him to the Trials?  Anakin sighed heavily.  Once again he knew he had the ability and the skills to face the Trials.  He could _be_ a Jedi.

                Obi-Wan had promised he would see it.  Stood there at Qui-Gon's funeral, looked him in the eye and promised him that he would be a Jedi.  Anakin stopped pacing and closed his eyes, pushing away the frustration forcibly from his mind, seeking his calm center.  'It's in there, somewhere.'

                He reached it almost at the same time as a…what was it?  A _howl_ erupted through the Force, a cry so anguished that Anakin physically took several steps backwards and reached for his lightsaber as if an attacker might materialize right there in front of him.  For a moment he simply stood there, blue eyes blinking and alert as he tried to recognize what might have prompted such an outcry.

                But nothing appeared and there was no further sound, mental or otherwise, and Anakin sought to regain his composure, shutting down his lightsaber and putting it away.  He replayed the sound in his mind, listening to it with more than just his memory.

                There was something…familiar in that voice.  He _knew who this person was…maybe.  Anakin struggled to place a face and name to the heart-rending scream but somehow it eluded him.  But the sense of familiarity remained and he knew that something horribly wrong had happened.  The impulse came to him that he had to do something about it.  After all, wasn't it part of the Code that as a Jedi he was a keeper of the peace and defender of the defenseless?  For surely that cry was not the voice of one in peace, but rather of one in pain._

                Snatching up the outer robe that he had discarded on the near end of the couch, Anakin shrugged his way into it and headed for the door, intending to find his master.  Or Mace Windu.  Or Yoda.  Or even Adi Gallia…someone, anyone who could help him come to this person's defense.  Surely a cry of that magnitude had been heard by at least one of them, perhaps all of them.

                The door slid aside just as he reached it, however, and he stopped dead in his tracks.  His master had returned, leaning hard on the cane as if he had forced himself to hurry and wearing a troubled expression such as Anakin had not seen since those first few nights after Geonosis.

                "What was it, Master?" Anakin asked, knowing instinctively that Obi-Wan had heard the shriek as well.  Kenobi limped slowly past his apprentice into the common area.  "Master Obi-Wan?" Anakin met his master's gaze.

                "Death."  Obi-Wan answered painfully.  "It was…death."


	6. Peace Be

Chapter Six!  And on we go…heading for some major plot developments in the next few parts…and sooner or later I'll work on "A Time To Live," I promise!!  Enjoy….

=thoughts transmitted through the master/apprentice bond.

SIX

                "Whose…death?"

                Obi-Wan heard Anakin enunciate each word precisely and directly, his padawan's tone full of a deep-seated dread that he himself felt pooling in the pit of his stomach.  He turned away, limping the few paces it took to reach the nearest repulsor chair and sat down in it.  "That scream…I know that voice, Master."

                "_Knew it, yes." Obi-Wan replied and his tone and expression were heavy-hearted.  "Listen here…" He tapped his chest.  "…and tell me what you heard."  Anakin obeyed, casting back in his mind to the tortured sound and suddenly his eyes widened a little._

                "It wasn't just one voice.  There were _two…" Skywalker frowned, his lips pursed together tightly in concentration.  "They were far from home and all alone, Master.  One of them was afraid."  He paused as if listening and his face blanched a little.  "They were Jedi…a master and her apprentice."  His eyes, suddenly troubled, locked onto his master's sorrowful expression, and Obi-Wan nodded._

                "Thaile Varou and her apprentice were sent to the Uleare Moons six days ago." The Jedi said softly.

                With the sudden match of name and voice, Anakin solemnly nodded and joined his master in taking a seat.  Master Varou had been one of Obi-Wan's closest friends for as long as Anakin could remember.  She and her padawan Jix-Rhe had both survived Geonosis, fighting valiantly in the arena alongside Adi Gallia.  And now...

                For a long moment, neither of them spoke; Obi-Wan absorbing the loss of yet another friend and Anakin sitting quietly and watchfully nearby.

                "They were murdered, weren't they?"  It was more statement than question; he knew his master would feel it too, the disturbance in the Force that seemed to hover around these deaths.

                "That is my feeling as well, Padawan."  Kenobi confirmed emptily.  The Knight looked up abruptly as if just now taking in his apprentice's presence.  "Where were you going?" He motioned loosely toward Anakin's once-more discarded robe on the arm of the couch.

                "To find you, Master." Anakin replied earnestly.  "I thought we could help…"  His voice faltered a little at how foolish it sounded.

                "Thaile and Jix are one with the Force now; they are far beyond needing our help, anymore."  Obi-Wan's voice sounded far-away; his mind's eye recalling memories of something younger, simpler and easier.  "_Tabas__ Kha'at my friend."_

                "Master?" Anakin intoned curiously.  Blue-grey eyes fixed on him in a pained stare.

                "'Tabas Kha'at?'  It's Alavi, Anakin.  Means 'Peace Be.'  Thaile was from Alavia, you know."

                "You knew her a long time, didn't you?"  Anakin's tone was subdued.  After a moment, his master nodded.

                "I was three years old when Thaile was introduced to my crèche clan.  When we were Initiates we were sparring and study partners; I taught her the Kreska Defense and she got me through Form Five Astrophysics." Obi-Wan's eyes misted a little as he recalled a slim, lithe figure with exquisite chocolate-brown eyes and an infectious smile.  "She was one of the best in the Order, Anakin…"

                Obi-Wan drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes, exhaling in a soft, even slower, sigh; an exercise that Anakin had come to recognize as his master seeking the tranquility of the Force.  _There is no death, only the Force.  For the second time today Obi-Wan found himself clinging to the Code to which he had pledged his life.  Grief would fade with time but the Force to which his friend had gone was forever._

                "Do you think the Council will order an investigation?"  Anakin's question was neither tactful nor expected and at first Obi-Wan simply blinked at his Padawan, unthinking.  Then his mind caught up with the question and he frowned a little bit as he considered it.

                "I don't know." He finally answered honestly.  "We're pretty thinly spread as it is.  With Master Varou and her apprentice now gone, we can likely assume that Uleare is a lost cause, joined with the Separatists.  It's unlikely with the growing unrest there that another Knight will be dispatched to look into it.  That whole sector is primed for hostilities; the Coalition will probably make its first strike there soon."

                "We shouldn't just…sit around and wait for them to make a move, Master." Anakin fretted.  "We should find them and _stop them."_

                "Revenge for Geonosis will accomplish very little, my young Padawan.  The Coalition will show themselves soon enough and when that happens we won't have a choice; the battle will be joined."

                Getting up again, Obi-Wan started to make his way back to his room when abruptly and forcibly he threw the cane aside, a small growl of barely-restrained frustration finding its way past his lips and Anakin fairly froze.  He hardly _ever saw his master lose his composure in such a manner; Obi-Wan was always so instant in releasing his emotions into the Force through long years of practice it was nearly second-nature for him.  Anakin could only gape in surprise as the Jedi continued on to his room, his limp quite a bit more pronounced without the support of the cane but Obi-Wan did not look back nor speak another word and then the door to his room closed behind him._

                Slowly rising, Anakin wandered over to where the cane had landed and slowly picked it up in both hands.  He looked at it a moment before throwing a worried glance toward his master's closed door.  Clearing his mind, he sent out tentatively,

                Master?

                He met with tightly drawn mental shields, closing Obi-Wan off from his padawan's inquisitive Force-touch.  Not one to be put off so easily, Anakin tried again.  Master Obi-Wan, please talk to me.

                Stony silence.  A flash of his own anger sprouted up briefly.  _Fine…he wants to be alone, he can be alone.  Anakin closed his eyes against it, taking a heaving breath and seeking to calm his frustrations.  Acting on them certainly would do his master no good.  However it was apparent to Anakin that in this instance the subtle approach would gain him no ground.  After a moment's hesitation he crossed the short distance to Obi-Wan's room and rapped lightly on the door._

                "Anakin…" Obi-Wan's voice sounded tired.  But a moment later the door slid open and the Jedi beckoned his apprentice inside.  He looked at Anakin's tall rangy build framed in the doorway and oddly enough was reminded of Qui-Gon's imposing height.  While Kenobi was hardly short, Anakin had already surpassed him by a few inches.

                There was a moment of awkward silence, Master and Padawan regarding one another thoughtfully.

                "Master, I'm sorry about…Master Varou.  I shouldn't have—"

                "It's not that, Anakin.  At least…not _just that." Obi-Wan interrupted, but his voice carried that same weary, dejected tone.  "Thaile's a great loss but so was Jix.  So was Boprett Mha and Gerus, Master Kaeeda and that small band of padawans all slaughtered with him at Geonosis."  Obi-Wan tried to put his feelings into words.  "I just don't know how much more loss we can take…" His voice trailed off and his shoulders slumped a little.  Anakin stepped into the room a bit further, and as he came out from the shadows of the doorway, Obi-Wan could see the concern in those young, deeply blue eyes._

                "There's something more, isn't there." Anakin prodded his master gently, knowing that like a nagging worry the thing that Obi-Wan had gone to speak with Yoda about remained unresolved.  He knew eventually Obi-Wan would speak of it but coupled with these tragic losses the tension emanating from the Jedi Knight was almost palpable.

                Obi-Wan hesitated a moment; he did not wish his padawan to become mistrustful or disrespectful of the Council, but neither did he want the boy to be ignorant of the true danger of the current crisis.  Certainly it was serious enough on its own but standing before the looming specter of war as they were now, the Council's failure to see things clearly could very well be catastrophic.

                "We should seek an audience with the Council." Kenobi said at length, hoping that would put off any further inquiry.  However; even that raised suspicion and Anakin's eyebrows shot up curiously.

                "Wouldn't _they summon __us about Master Varou and Padawan Rhe?"_

                "Not necessarily, my young Padawan." Obi-Wan shifted a little, seeking to take the stress from his injured leg, and Anakin moved forward instantly with the cane; having carried it into the room with him.  Kenobi sighed softly and resignedly took it from Anakin's hand to lean on it.  "Thank you." He said briefly before launching into the rest of his explanation.  "If they _do decide on an investigation, I doubt we'll be first on their list."  Obi-Wan motioned with his free hand toward the hated cane and the injury it was meant to aid.  What he didn't say was, __if they are even aware of what's happened…  He could not afford to make assumptions any more now than ever; just because the Council had been blind in a single instance…_

                _But it's not just a single instance.  The thought rose unbidden in Obi-Wan's mind and he closed his eyes a moment, seeking to squash it.  There was no one he trusted more than Masters Yoda and Mace Windu, and the sharpest Force-minds in the Order were on the Council.  __So what is happening to them?!?  His senses fairly screamed at him.  Pushing it down, he regarded his apprentice as calmly as he was able.  "I just want to hear what they have to say on the matter; we have our assignment."_

                "Padme's reception." Anakin surmised, and Obi-Wan nodded curtly.  Finally the Jedi Knight raked a hand through ginger hair and exhaled slowly, finding his center and anchoring himself to it.  It would do neither of them any good to display such anxiety when the calm of the Force was well within reach.  "Master?"

                "It's nothing to trouble yourself with, Anakin."  _At least, not yet.  "I'll contact Master Windu about speaking with the Council."_

                "Yes, Master." Anakin recognized the subject as being closed for now and he regarded Obi-Wan a moment more before returning to the common area of their shared quarters.  He still wasn't sure what was troubling his master so; but as he was so often told, in good time the Force would make plain all that needed to be made plain.

                Shoving his frustrations aside, the young apprentice wandered out onto the balcony to look out over the waning afternoon light.


	7. Blind Commission

Here we go…so sorry for the delay; took a little longer to come to me; the muse was being uncooperative. LOL  Lack of sleep might have played a part. ;) Enjoy!

= Thoughts transmitted through the master/apprentice bond.

SEVEN

                The news from the Uleare system was even better than anticipated; all six of the small inhabitable moons surrounding the gas giant had pledged their support to Count Dooku, joining the Coalition and withdrawing their senator from Coruscant.  It would not be long now before the Senate itself would begin to founder, falling in upon itself as its own machinations of greed and corruption aided his own quest.

                Palpatine allowed a small private smile.  Better yet, Ich'im had fulfilled his first contract and secured the deaths of two Jedi.  The details were only marginally important in the fact that they had been killed rather plainly and not by the method that Ich'im had been specifically contracted for.  But the painstaking preparation the assassin was making would be put to good use, he was sure.  His confidence in the assassin had only increased rather than decreased with this delay; these two killings in the meantime had proved Ich'im's ability to satisfy his employer.

                Fortunately Uleare was too small a system for the greater galaxy to pay much attention to; situated only a few parsecs from Jastas Prime, the moons were perfect for the conscription of laborers for the Death Star project.  Once the dust had settled from the removal of the Ulearean Senator, it was quite likely Uleare would fall into oblivion in the collective memories of the galaxy; allowing Count Dooku unlimited access to the moons' populations.

                And poised to strike at the Republic was a Coalition battle group; the first true attack of the war.

                The private smile grew into a deep, mirthless, menacing grin.

++++++

                Anakin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, setting his outer robe swaying gently with the motion.  He was acutely aware of Obi-Wan observing him from a few paces away, and yet he couldn't help his restlessness; he hated waiting.  Already they had been waiting outside the Council's audience chamber for nearly ten standard minutes; Anakin was pacing and fidgeting and Obi-Wan simply sitting on a repulsor chair that had been provided.

                "You might as well settle down, Anakin." Obi-Wan finally said, although his tone was quite calm.  It wasn't a lecture; it was simple statement of fact.  "They'll let us in when they're good and ready and not before."

                "Doesn't mean I have to like it." Anakin shot back.  At his master's sudden raised eyebrow, the padawan sighed softly.  "I don't understand why they drag us out here and then make us wait forever."

                "Ten minutes is not _quite forever, my young Padawan." Obi-Wan chided gently.  "Beside the fact that __we requested this audience, so we were hardly dragged anywhere."_

                "But they _know why we're here." Anakin protested._

                "And that means what, exactly?" Obi-Wan sat back now and crossed his arms over his chest; his only other movement was to follow his restless padawan with his eyes, back and forth in the small ante-room.  "You're about to put a hole right through the floor with all that pacing."  Obi-Wan took on an amused expression. "I think you'd end up somewhere in Master Windu's quarters or something down there."

                Anakin tried hard not to react to his master's attempt to quell his impatience with a bit of gentle humor; he recognized it for what it was and stopped his pacing accordingly.  However it did nothing to alleviate the source of the impatience—the wait—and he found himself simultaneously annoyed at and envious of his master's relaxed manner.

                Well…no.  Not relaxed, exactly; Anakin could still sense that small undercurrent of uneasiness eddying along in his master's Force-signature.  It was just better concealed than his own disquiet; Obi-Wan having released the greater part of his anxiety into the Force while Anakin had allowed himself to stew in his impatience.

                "It means that they ought to have figured out already what it is they want us to do, so why not just tell us and get it over with?"

                Obi-Wan suppressed a chuckle, maintaining a suitably serious demeanor.  He remembered asking similarly fruitless questions of his own Master before patience had become such a desirable trait in his life.

                "With the Council, Padawan, the decision often is in the details, and we would do well to remember that oftentimes the smallest details yield the most important information.  As Jedi, we can afford to overlook nothing."

                Before Obi-Wan could elaborate by example, however, the door to the Council chamber slid aside and its silent prompting brought him to his feet.  With as much dignity as he could muster with a three-week-old limp and a cane, he preceded Anakin into the Council's presence.

                So it was that the wait was made all the more baffling to Anakin when, upon their entrance, they were greeted not by the sight of the entire twelve-member Jedi Council but the solitary figure of Master Yoda.  Not even Master Windu was present, which even Obi-Wan found to be a curiosity since the two Masters often operated in tandem _and since it had been through Mace Windu that the Jedi Knight had made his request for audience._

                "Considered your request, I have, Obi-Wan." The green-skinned Jedi announced without preamble as the two before him bowed in greeting.  Obi-Wan straightened quickly to regard the small Master with curious eyes.

                "_You have, Master Yoda? Not the Council?"_

                "Apprised of my decision the Council will be but overrule it they will not.  A dangerous situation this is; and know more we must.  Sending you and your Padawan to Uleare I am."  Obi-Wan's surprise must have shown clearly on his face, for Yoda continued.  "Know that ready truly you are not but have little choice I do; too few Jedi and too many responsibilities there are.  But unearth the motive behind the deaths of Master Varou and her apprentice you must.  Sense darkness behind it I do."

                "_You do…but again…not the Council?"  Kenobi could barely contain the sudden chill that swept down his spine.  He was right…he'd been hoping, hope against hope that…__Force, let me be wrong._

                "Difficult to see the future is.  The Darkside everywhere has fallen."  With a concerned glance at the two Jedi, Yoda slowly began to pace, his gimer stick tapping hollowly against the marbled floor.

                "Master Yoda…" Obi-Wan hesitated to even _speak such a thing and yet he could not ignore the warning he now felt tingling in his mind.  He glanced at Anakin, uncertain how his padawan would react to such a revelation, before plunging ahead.  If he was going to go to Uleare, he __had to know.  "…__Is the Council made blind?"_

                There it was.  The source of his master's distress and Anakin blinked in amazement.  Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi was nothing if not observant to the Code and respectful of his masters; long service to his training and knighthood had instilled those virtues.  To hear him outright question the Council—to question _Master Yoda—was almost a physical shock._

                For a long moment there was only heavy silence as Obi-Wan met Yoda's gaze squarely, awaiting his answer.  Anakin looked from one to the other and back again, wordlessly contemplating the implications of his master's question.  At length, a long pained sigh escaped from the short Jedi Master and that alone was enough to speak volumes into the matter at hand.

                At last Yoda broke the stare to give a simple, single nod of his head, a movement which did more to chill Obi-Wan's heart than anything had in a very long time.

                "Totally blind we are not, but clouded our vision is." Yoda resumed pacing, as if somehow his persistent steps would restore order to things now in such disorder.  "The Dark Side, grows against us it does.  Desperately out of balance, the galaxy…and the Order…has become."

                Anakin felt his heart beating wildly against his chest as if to escape his ribs.  _Out of balance…  He had heard the whispers of course, knew the rumors; that Qui-Gon Jinn had regarded Anakin's giftings as the herald sign of the Chosen One, of prophecy fulfilled.  Every achievement, every advance above his peers, had been cause for fresh speculation and Anakin had not been deaf to it.  Master Obi-Wan had never made much fuss about it; he preferred heralding Anakin's future as a talented Jedi Knight sans any prophetic trappings that could lead to misplaced pride.  __But what if they're all right?_

                "What does that mean for Uleare?"  Obi-Wan finally asked, still absorbing the impact of Yoda's admission of the Council's difficulties yet still acknowledging their new assignment.

                "Know this I do not."  Yoda admitted and Obi-Wan's expression deepened into a tight frown.  "Help you all we can, we will.  A restless system, Uleare is; be mindful you must.  Strong Dooku's influence there will be."

                Obi-Wan drew in a slow, measured breath.  Truly he hadn't expected an investigation at all in the shadow of war; to be sent himself was more than he could have asked for all things considered.  He spared a quick glance at Anakin; his apprentice's shoulders were hunched tensely.  A stretch into the bond brushed up against a mind tightly shielded; Obi-Wan wasn't certain at all what Anakin's opinions were regarding the Council, the mission, or the uncertain future that yawned before them like a gaping maw ready to swallow them whole.

                "We will make preparations to leave for Uleare immediately." Obi-Wan inclined his head respectfully toward Yoda, expecting this conference to be at an end.

                "What about Padme's…Senator Amidala's reception?" Anakin spoke finally, and his question drew the gazes of both his masters.  At Obi-Wan's questioning expression, Anakin shrugged a little.  "You did say to pay attention to the details, Master."

                "Arranged a transport for you I have.  Depart for Uleare in the morning you will." Yoda answered.  "The Senator's reception, another time will have to be."  The Jedi master held up a hand, and a datachip floated out toward Obi-Wan who reached out with his own hand to pluck it from midair.  "Listed there the transport's docking information and Master Varou's reports are."

                "Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan acknowledged, briefly glancing at the small chip in his palm before pocketing it within his robes.  "I'll report when we arrive in the Uleare system."

                "Meditate more on this distressing situation I will.  Careful you both must be.  May the Force be with you." Yoda raised his hand again almost in benediction.  Obi-Wan and Anakin both bowed deeply and exited the chamber under Yoda's watchful gaze.


	8. An Unwitting Pawn

Next chapter!  See what happens when I take a night off and actually *write*??  LOL :D  Enjoy!!

= Thoughts transmitted through the master/apprentice bond.

EIGHT

                The corridors of the Jedi Temple were fairly deserted at this time of day; classes for Initiates and Padawans were all closed for the day, younglings all in their crèche clans for the night and most everyone else in their quarters or the meditation gardens, passing an uneventful early Coruscant evening.  Anakin's steps echoed hollowly in empty hallways as he made his way from the quarters he shared with Master Obi-Wan to the lift and from there to the speeder bay several levels down.  Choosing his favorite from the handful of communal speeders employed by the Temple, the young padawan started it up and jetted out into the dusky sunset of the perpetually busy city.

                Flying was always his true passion, even when he was inclined to "behave" himself in the air, which was a rare enough thing indeed.  Those few chances he got to pilot a speeder alone he usually relished, taking the opportunity to use the faster lanes and really open her up; all the things that normally freaked Master Obi-Wan right out.

                Anakin laughed a little, dropping down a few levels of sky-lane traffic and adjusting his heading for the interior, as he recalled his last flying adventure with Master Obi-Wan.  It had been before Geonosis, the chase of the assassin who had targeted Padme at the behest of Jango Fett.  Poor Master Obi-Wan had nearly lost his lunch on that one; Anakin recalled his master's rather pale-faced expression after a "near-miss" that wasn't as random as it might have looked.  Grinning, Anakin gunned the speeder and zipped his way through traffic.  Podracing definitely would not have been for his master.

                His destination was not truly all that far from the Temple itself, but in order to draw out this little bit of pleasure as long as possible, he'd actually started out in the opposite direction from where he wanted to go, intending to take "the long way."  Darting in and out of the ever-busy sky-lanes, diving and climbing, rolling over and tucking back inside a main lane, he made his way into the deeper interior of the city and then back out, around and up toward the Galactic Senate buildings.

                Anakin's last maneuver was a daring little loop that skirted the landing pad just outside the Senate's main chambers and left him hovering just above the private air-car bay that was attached to the Chancellor's Offices.  Guiding the little speeder into the bay, he anchored it and switched off.  Climbing out, all long-limbed grace, Anakin tugged his robe on around him as he crossed the bay.

                A pair of the Chancellor's elite guards stood at the entrance to the building, their dark slate robes and headgear setting them apart from the rank and file of any regular warriors, the new clone troopers included.  The nearly appeared unassuming, but Anakin knew better; they had been trained in battle nearly as strictly as the Jedi themselves and upsetting their perception of the Chancellor's well-being was not in anyone's best interest.

                "I'm here for an audience with Chancellor Palpatine." Anakin announced serenely, his hands clasped before him in his best imitation of Master Obi-Wan's respectful, calm demeanor.

                "We weren't informed of any such audience." The leftmost of the two guards said in clipped, oddly accented tones.

                "Inform the Chancellor that Padawan Anakin Skywalker is here to speak with him." Anakin said in that same confident tone.  He knew that it was not likely that the Chancellor would refuse to see him even on such short notice if he was not involved in meetings or some official function.  The past few years Anakin had learned a great deal about the function of the Senate and the Chancellor had taken a personal interest in Anakin's own rise through the Jedi training, often offering simple advice that had steered him to several advances beyond his peers.  For a politician, that most untrustworthy of professionals according to Master Obi-Wan, Anakin found Palpatine to be intelligent, perceptive, and engaging individual.

                A moment later, the bay doors opened and another of the slate-clad guards appeared, motioning to his compatriots.

                "Chancellor Palpatine has instructed me to receive his guest and conduct him within." The guard announced simply.  Anakin gave a slight bow to the two standing watch and followed the newcomer into the adjoining passageway.

++++++

                Obi-Wan threw together the few things he would need to take with him to Uleare; the transport wasn't scheduled to depart until nearly midday but there was no real reason to put off preparations.  He'd sent Anakin to inform Senator Amidala of their change in assignment and to convey their sincere apologies for their inability to attend the special ceremony.

                _So much for the intergalactic goodwill tour.  He thought to himself as he rolled up an extra pair of leggings and tucked them into the small bag lying on the sleep couch.  The idea hadn't set well with him to begin with, and now he mainly knew why.  The Council was seeking to establish the Order on more stable footing without the benefit of clear foresight, and it was clear to Obi-Wan at least that they were seeking to hold their own in the political arena where they had never had to do so before._

                Politics.  Obi-Wan sighed a little bit.  The entire galaxy was changing, shifting already under the brutal hand of war even though Geonosis to this point remained its only battleground.  That would not be so for long; he could fairly taste its ugliness in his soul.  True enough that as a Jedi he had seen his fair share of battles, war-torn worlds struggling through civil strife and revolution.  It revolted him every time he encountered it, the needless suffering and loss and atrocity and now it seemed he would see it again, on a scale he had never before imagined it.  The entire galaxy would be swept up in this war and its horror would soak through the entire Republic like a blood-stained garment.

                There would be no peace and justice to defend.

                The thought slammed into Obi-Wan and he felt the sickness rise up in him, the bitter taste of bile as the nauseating reality of it overwhelmed him momentarily.  All that the Order had bled and served and suffered and died for over the centuries would be lost.  _Perhaps we will be lost along with it.  This thought too sprang unbidden to his mind and Obi-Wan swallowed convulsively, seeking to minimize his physical reaction to the horrible fate that loomed before them._

                Not even clones deserved to die a senseless death.

                Finishing his packing, Obi-Wan pulled the datachip that Yoda had given him from his tunic and plugged it into a nearby datapad, intending on reviewing Thaile Varou's reports to the Council on her mission to Uleare.  She and Jix had been sent there in the hopes of keeping the moons' colonists committed to the cause of the Republic, to the cause of peace.

                Slowly sitting down, he touched the datapad in a short series of taps, activating the chip, and a holographic image appeared on the image screen.  Thaile.  Obi-Wan swallowed again, this time from the wave of sadness that washed over him to see his friend again, looking so vibrant and alive, listening to her voice as she reported on her arrival to the first Ulearean moon to speak of peace.  The words themselves didn't quite register with him as much as the tone of her voice and way she always seemed to be so focused.  They had grown up together, found their destinies in the Order side by side; Obi-Wan recalled the day he'd stood by and watched her Knighted, his own Padawan's braid having been cut on Naboo just a scant two weeks earlier.

                Abruptly Obi-Wan placed the report on standby and leaned back, running one hand through ginger locks and leaving them slightly disheveled.  Despite the growing imbalance he was becoming more perceptive of all around him; he knew that as a Jedi, sworn to the Code and the Order, that there was really only one thing he could do.

                He would serve the cause of the right, the good, the noble and the true.  It was all Qui-Gon would have expected of him, and it was all that he expected of himself.  _I am a Jedi Knight, a keeper of the peace and a servant of the Force.  War or not, senseless loss of comrades or not, he would serve that which he had pledged his life to.  If that turned out to be an impossibly high standard, then so be it; he would strive for it anyway.  He could not think of any better way to honor the memory of his friend than to continue in the ideals for which she had given her life._

                He would begin by finding her killer.

++++++

                "What brings you by here at this time of day, young Skywalker?"  Chancellor Palpatine greeted his unexpected guest warmly as Anakin pulled back the hood of his Jedi robe and stepped further into the room.  Palpatine's main office was fairly spacious, with windows overlooking this part of the interior's skyline and its ever-busy air-car traffic.  Rising from the desk that occupied a strategic spot at one side of the office, the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic drifted a few paces nearer the Jedi apprentice and smiled.

                "I just wanted to let you know that I won't be in contact for awhile…Master Obi-Wan and I are being sent on a mission." Anakin answered easily as he joined the Supreme Chancellor next to the transparisteel windows that overlooked the city skyline which was coming alive with lights as dusk deepened.  The Chancellor's expression was one of surprise.

                "Master Kenobi's healing has gone so well?" He inquired politely, and Anakin grimaced a little, shaking his head.

                "Well, no, not really.  He's still having some trouble."  Anakin hesitated.  "Healer Obuk _says he'll be fine."_

                "Then that is good news.  Your master is one of the most adept Jedi in the Order; losing him would be unthinkable."  Niceties having been observed, Palpatine gave the padawan a smile.  "I'm a little surprised that the Council didn't allow for a longer convalescence for you both.  Surely there are other Jedi who can—"

                "I'm afraid not, Chancellor.  There aren't enough of us to…" Anakin caught himself and shrugged a little.  "Most of the Order is otherwise occupied."

                "Diplomatically put, my young Jedi." Palpatine raised a curious eyebrow.  "And so the Council will resort to putting two barely-recovered members out on a field mission?"

                "With all due respect, Chancellor, I'm fine." Anakin replied firmly, raising his chin a little.  "And I'll watch out for Master Obi-Wan."  To his satisfaction, the chancellor nodded to him slowly, his expression one of affirmation.

                "I'm sure you will meet with success."  Palpatine moved a few paces apart, as if thinking.  Anakin watched him a moment and then finally broke the silence.

                "What is it?"

                "I had hoped you would not be drawn away from Coruscant; there is word of a Coalition battlegroup forming in the Charmadis Sector."

                "Charmadis?" Anakin echoed concernedly.  "We have to pass through there.  Master Obi-Wan and I are being sent to Uleare.  If there's a battlegroup there, we need to know—"

                "It was my impression that Jedi ambassadors had already been dispatched to Uleare to negotiate the colonists' continuation as members of the Republic." Palpatine feigned surprise; he knew full well that the Jedi Ich'im had destroyed were the pair sent on the Ulearean mission.  Anakin shifted his gaze a moment, a flash of unhappiness registering in his deeply blue eyes.

                "That is so, Chancellor but I'm afraid the Jedi and her padawan were killed during that mission."

                "How terrible!" Palpatine's eyes widened a bit, displaying his "shock" for the benefit of the young apprentice.  "I wasn't aware that the Order had lost another negotiation team."

                "Master Obi-Wan and I are being sent to investigate." Anakin confirmed.  There was another long pause; this time Anakin simply waited through it, watching the chancellor as he paced back and forth a few steps.

                Truly, Palpatine mused, this was too easy, for the boy _trusted him.  Obi-Wan should have paid a little more attention to whom his padawan willingly gave such trust.  Eventually he glanced back up again, as if suddenly becoming aware of the boy's waiting, watchful attention._

                "Uleare may have already been lost, if your compatriots were killed there.  Perhaps the Council should reconsider lest it lose you and Master Kenobi as well."  He kept his tone and expression carefully sculpted to show just the right amount of concern.

                "The Council has to consider our commission to Uleare first." Anakin said with a smile.  "Master Yoda is sending us out there."

                Yoda!  Palpatine carefully masked his annoyance.  Despite the dark side's rising influence against the Jedi Council, that meddling green troll was still entirely too perceptive for his liking.  Obviously Yoda had not been convinced that the Jedi deaths had been simply the result of Uleare's increasingly hostile position toward the Republic in general and the Jedi in particular and now the other thorn in Palpatine's side, Obi-Wan Kenobi, was being dispatched to look into it.

                Kenobi was almost as troublesome, having an irritating habit of being in the wrong place at the right time.  His instincts after the failed attempt on Senator Amidala's life a month ago had been sharp enough to lead him straight to Kamino—very nearly an upset of carefully crafted plans to unleash this war on the Republic.  For while the battle at Geonosis had been foreseen and carefully engineered; Kamino had never been intended to be discovered.

                Palpatine's foresight had included the presence of the Jedi at Geonosis; he had intended to lure them there by other means, guile and deceit.  But Obi-Wan's unexpected tracking of Jango Fett had nearly tipped his hand.  Despite forcing a speeding up of events, it had worked out handsomely in the end, drawing nearly the entire Order into the fray where they could have been destroyed.

                Foresight, whether Light or Dark, was an inexact process.  The future rarely held still long enough for complete details.

                He could not afford the same sort of event to happen on Uleare.  If Obi-Wan were to discover the Death Star project it could spell certain disaster for his plans.  Aware suddenly of Kenobi's apprentice standing quietly by, Palpatine shook himself from his thoughts.  The boy wasn't _his yet, after all.  He had to keep his wits about him in order to acquire Anakin as his own.  He smiled thinly._

                "I believe you will bring justice to their killers." He assured.  "But I am sure that you have preparations to make before your journey, young Skywalker.  Don't let me hold you away from them."

                Anakin had spent enough time around negotiation tables to know when he was being politely dismissed.  He said nothing, no final farewells; he simply bowed and exited the Chancellor's offices with a sweep of his robe.

                As he walked back toward the air-car bay to retrieve the speeder, Anakin's brows tucked into a brief, troubled frown.  Right before his dismissal, he'd sensed something…a flash of hatred from the Chancellor, but it had come and gone so quickly that it nearly didn't register with him.  Anakin was uncertain as to what or whom it was directed; perhaps it was simply anger at the direct, audacious, bold murder of two Jedi on a simple mission of peace.

                Shrugging it off as merely a moment, Anakin jumped lightly into the speeder and fired it up; he still had one more farewell to make before returning to the Temple.  Giving the speeder a little acceleration and a slight course correction, he headed off toward the Hall of Naboo.


	9. One Night

And the plot thickens…. ;) 

= Thoughts transmitted through the master/apprentice bond.

NINE

                Ich'im wasn't all that surprised that he was being given his next assignment less than twenty-four hours after his first one.  Frankly it didn't bother him.  His employer was certainly ambitious; Ich'im would give him that.  So long as the credits kept coming, that was all right by him.

                "Have a sample?  I'm ready to test it on a live subject."  Ich'im announced casually, pleased at the flicker of interest that dashed across the other man's face.

                "No, there is no sample.  And there is no time to collect one.  Can it be tried without one?"

                Ich'im thought for a moment.  "Well, I can't guarantee an exact match, but it could prove to be an interesting test case.  Sure, I'll try it.  Who's the lucky Jedi?"

                A holographic image was displayed.  Serious "mug;" they all looked like that, he thought.  Like they might break in two if they smiled once in awhile or something.  Lighter hair, definitely on the reddish side but not overly so.  Beard.  Blue eyes.  Lightsaber visible at his hip; definite "don't mess with me" material.

                Well, he was about to be messed with.

                "His name is Obi-Wan Kenobi."

++++++

                Ich'im's new target was currently sitting out on the small balcony that for over twenty years had been the place where he'd taken his evening meditations.  First with Qui-Gon, his master patiently teaching him how to go deeper and farther into the Living Force, a connection that still needed nursing along sometimes and then with Anakin, trying to pass along the same pearls of wisdom that had been given to him.

                And now, alone.

                Anakin had not returned from his errands and dusk had given way to a moonless night, the inky blackness punctuated by Coruscant's spectacular skylines.  Out here was the potential of distraction; speeders and air-cars, the usual cityscape noises that littered the consciousness with random thoughts.  Made it that much more of a challenge on a night when his concentration seemed challenged enough.

                Obi-Wan settled down into the chair that had been placed out here after his release from the infirmary three weeks ago, so he might continue his normal routine.  Carefully he propped up the injured leg on a nearby stool and then pulled in a long, deep breath.  After a handful of heartbeats, he exhaled ever so slowly, closed his eyes and allowed himself to plunge heedlessly into the Force, not waiting for complete calm; hoping instead that he would _find complete calm._

                Ever so gradually, his focus sharpened, but not as much as he would have liked.  Too many things buzzed around the periphery of his mind, things over which he had no control and yet seemed to be pulling him along in their wake like a small child dragging a rag doll.  _There is purpose in all things.  He told himself mechanically, trying to push past the mounting tally of anxieties that vied for his attention._

_Tabas__ Kha'at.  Peace be…peace be…peace be.  Like a mantra, he repeated it over and over, lips barely moving, seeking to release his troubled thoughts into the Force.  Thaile's native greeting slowly began to be the balm that soothed his restless mind, allowing him to find that calm, peaceful place in the Force that he so desperately needed._

Order from disorder.  Understanding from chaos.  Maybe it would take some time, maybe some of those purposes would be hidden from sight for awhile.  But he knew they were there and the Force would guide him.

The Force would always guide him.

++++++

                Anakin stood nervously waiting in the small ante-room just off the main lobby of the Hall of Naboo, having been directed there by one of the security people the place fairly crawled with. Oh, they weren't always obvious to the untrained eye, but Anakin could both see and sense them all around.  What with all the attempts that had been made on Padme's life, the security regulars here had been nearly tripled in number.

                He couldn't say he disapproved.  The only other thing he would have preferred was to be here himself; as a Jedi he knew he had it all over those security types.  But in lieu of that, he was glad that there was extra security anyway.

                It was only a few minutes before one of those security types came to collect him and take him up to the upper levels, to the observation decks that overlooked the city.  Anakin followed after him silently, his robe swishing along around him with his steps.  The lift ride was almost agonizing, as it was in complete silence and Anakin could feel that the other man did not have a great deal of regard for Jedi.

                When they were released from the small confines of the liftcar, Anakin again followed after the guard as he made his way down to a large pair of double doors.  Stopping, his escort pulled one of the doors open and Anakin passed him by, pausing as the door swung quietly closed behind him.

                _She was there, all glorious moonlight and porcelain skin, standing with her back to him, gazing out into the night sky.  Anakin hesitated a moment, just standing there watching her and drinking her in.  Memorizing every detail._

                Eventually however he could no longer stay still; he had to be near her, had to feel that softness against him, and he crossed the deck to the window where she stood and slipped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest from behind.  He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, smelling the softly fragranced hair.

                "Padme…" He murmured softly.

                Her eyes were closed; from the moment he'd stepped through the door she'd known he was there.  To feel his arms around her again was everything she could have wanted from this night.  She could smell the scent of his leather over-tunic, and felt the softness of the wide sleeves that were wrapped around her.

                "Ani…" She replied, resting her head against his chest.  They stood there like that for a moment, almost as if they were afraid to move, to break the spell.  "On Naboo, it's said that a single star holds the souls of love."

                "I believe it." Anakin answered, gently drawing her around to face him.  "I have my star."  He dipped his head down to kiss her, first her forehead, then her face and finally her mouth, tasting those sweet lips tenderly.  They parted, and he looked down at her.  "And she holds my soul."

                Padme smiled a little, and linked her fingers with those of his good hand, drawing him along with her as she wandered along the deck to view a different view of the nighttime skyline.

                "I didn't expect to see you again until the reception." She admitted, turning that smile up at him briefly.  "I'm glad you came."

                "Hmm…" Anakin sighed softly, and he released her hand to reach up and trace her chin gently with his fingers.  "That's why I'm here, Padme.  Master Obi-Wan sent me to talk to you about the reception."  He paused a moment.  "We won't be able to attend…Master Yoda is sending us on a mission."

                "Master Yoda?" Padme echoed confusedly.  "Master Yoda and Master Windu were the ones who agreed to allow you to come.  What happened?"

                Anakin hesitated; he didn't want her to worry.  Uleare was not going to be a walk in the park, not even for two Jedi…_Two Jedi with a prosthetic arm and a trick leg between them…that oughta be good.  But he didn't voice his concerns to her.  Instead he simply shook his head a little._

                "We're being sent after a master and apprentice who ran into some trouble on their mission, that's all." Anakin explained simply.  Padme inclined her head to look up at him, her dark eyes narrowing slightly.

                "Somehow I think it's a little more than that, if the Council has taken you two away from my guest-list instead of assigning someone else to the task." Padme chided gently.  "Anakin, I'm your wife…you don't have to hide things away from me just because you think I can't handle it."

                "You're my wife…" Anakin breathed into her hair as he gathered her close once again.  "But the life of a Jedi is a hard one…" He recalled Qui-Gon Jinn's first admonition to him as a nine year old boy on Tatooine, considering the Jedi Master's offer to take him to Coruscant to begin the training.  "I want to spare you as much hardness as I can…"

                "You can't save me from everything, Ani." Padme answered gently, reaching up to caress her husband's face.  "But I love that you want to try."

                "I will save you from everything…I promise."  Anakin kissed her again, the embrace warm and affectionate.  "And someday…they'll see…this was right."  He pulled away now, reluctantly, but she caught at his hand before he could turn away fully; his artificial one as it was the closest to her when he started to turn around.  Careful not to crush her fingers in its powerful clasp, he closed the metallic fingers around her palm.

                "Don't go." She pleaded.  "Stay a little while."

                "It's late…" Anakin hesitated.  "Master Obi-Wan—"

                "—won't mind if you spend an hour catching up with a friend." Padme smiled at him.  "He shouldn't object to that too much."

                Anakin hesitated.  He knew Master Obi-Wan would want to get right at things in the morning before departing for Uleare; it wouldn't do to be half-asleep in the middle of a briefing from his master.  Still…every fiber of his being ached to be with his wife, to squeeze out every last moment of opportunity available to him to touch her…hold her…kiss her…possess her.

                With a gentle tug and a teasing smile, Padme led him from the observation deck toward the private lift that led to her quarters.

++++++

                An hour turned into two.

                Three.

                Four.

                Six.

                The chronometer in their quarters showed half past the standard hour of 3 AM.  Exactly five minutes later than the last time Obi-Wan had glanced at it as he shifted restlessly on the conforming couch in the common area.  He'd come in from the balcony shortly after he'd about shivered to death in the cool night air; only to begin pacing a bit in the apartment and finally to lie down on the conform couch to try to get some rest despite his waiting for Anakin.

                A rest that currently was eluding him as he considered the whereabouts of his young apprentice.  It had been much too late to contact the Naboo diplomatic staff and still be considered within the bounds of politeness.  There had been no response to his comlink calls and a brief foray into the master/apprentice bond revealed only a tightly-shielded mind as if from a distance.  That was hardly unusual; Obi-Wan had never been able to quite establish the same sort of deep, undisturbed link between himself and Anakin that had existed once between himself and Qui-Gon.  It seemed that their bond was in constant flux, tenuous one moment and strong and vibrant the next; he had never been able to find a solution to that, to steady the link between them into something more stable.

                So it was that he was left with the utter silence of a companion-less dwelling and the task of reining in an over-active imagination before it ran away with him.  Hardly befitting a Jedi Knight; let alone the apprentice's own teacher.  Squashing his worries the best he could, he sought to find a modicum of peace and a little bit of sleep, his senses trained on the front door should Anakin return while he drowsed.

                Anakin carefully slipped inside the door as quietly as he could, not quite waiting for the door to open all the way.  The sun was not quite rising yet; it was still dark inside the apartments he shared with his master but just barely light was beginning to invade it.  He'd taken off his boots to be as silent as possible; he placed them at the side of the doorjamb and crept into the common area.  Good.  No sign of Master Obi-Wan.

                He had very nearly made it to his room when a soft sigh and a disappointed voice called out from the vicinity of the balcony,

                "Gods, Anakin, where have you been?"


	10. Harmful Intent

Ok, ok…I know this took a little longer than normal but this was my *attempt* to write a longer chapter JUST FOR YOU BECKY!! LOL  So blame the delay on her.  LOL  As always, enjoy!

= Thoughts transmitted through the master/apprentice bond.

TEN

                Ich'im glanced around casually as he stepped into the hangar.  _Let's see…number 704, right where it's supposed to be.  Bet they don't know they're taking on Jedi._

                The ship was a standard passenger transport, marked, from the looks of it.  It was being loaded with cargo for its journey later in day to Uleare.  Politics aside, business was still business and by the looks of things it likely wouldn't be disrupted too much by Uleare's withdrawal from the Senate, at least for a little while.  Credits truly ran the universe, and if anybody had anything different to say about it all they had to do was check in with the traders, shipping unions, and even smugglers and spicers.  If money was to be made, someone would find a way to make it, war or no war.

                Ich'im certainly had his methods.

                Dressed in the loose clothing of a bay worker, he slipped unobtrusively into the line of men who were loading the vessel's large cargo bays; his employer had given him this ship's docking numbers as being the vessel the two Jedi were scheduled to depart on for the Uleare system. His target and his target's apprentice, whom Ich'im was not to touch under the strictest orders of his employer.

                Very particular, this boss.

                It was no matter to the assassin; he had his assignment and he would carry it out.  He was nothing if not thorough, and meticulous to detail.  If the boy was not to be touched, then the boy would not be touched, but he would be mourning his master.  Ich'im would see to that.

                Once aboard the vessel, he placed his burden down in the nearest likely spot and slipped away from the main group of workers, waiting until there was a lull in the rhythm of loading when he could sneak into the passageway beyond.

                From there it was no great effort to find his way to the crew quarters, lift a uniform that was about his size and quickly change.  These service transports were always picking up new crew in busy spaceports on capital planets and Coruscant was no exception.  He would simply blend in and of course there would be speculation about "the new guy" but that was nothing out of the ordinary.

                For this Jedi, Death would come with a kindly smile.

++++++

                Anakin froze briefly, his brain scrambling to catch up with the softly accented voice of his master.  Suppressing a small groan, he turned to face Obi-Wan and noted with some surprise his master's somewhat pale and disheveled state.

                "Master?"

                "The first-watch of guards at the Hall took over the night-watch one hour ago."  Obi-Wan began, speaking slowly, distinctly and deliberately.  "When I inquired of both captains concerning your whereabouts, neither of them remembered seeing either you or your speeder."  Anakin cringed inwardly; the softly spoken statements were like facts being laid out at a trial.  "You left no word, no contact.  I can only assume there was some _reason for your staying out all night without so much as a breath of explanation."_

                Anakin shifted his weight from one foot to the other, desperate to escape the intense gaze of those blue-grey eyes as Master Obi-Wan folded his arms across his chest, waiting for that explanation.

                "I'm sorry, Master." He said hesitantly.  "I…lost track of the time."  _Apology first.  It was true enough that Anakin had indeed lost track of the time.  The security captains' lack of information was not surprising to him; they hadn't seen him or his speeder because on a whim he'd taken Padme to watch the Kamerang Lights, a breathtaking aerial display of light and color unrivaled anywhere on the planet.  They had stolen tender kisses on an abandoned skywalk as the lights played over them in the pre-dawn hours.  He'd returned Padme to her quarters via a little-used service bay on the high side of the Hall._

                "That, young Padawan is apparent." Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, an expression somewhere between concern and exasperation gracing his features.  "The time you lost track of, I have been keeping."  He reached up to rub briefly at his eyes and Anakin realized guiltily that Obi-Wan had been up…well if not all night, at least a good portion of it…worrying.  "Anakin…" The hand drew away slowly with a final attempt to ease the burning sting of tiredness.  "Just tell me.  Were you down in the Interior again?  You know how I feel about you going down there and taking part in those races."

                _Racing?  Anakin blinked a moment.  So his master, going on the information provided to him by the Naboo watch captains, believed him to be reckless and irresponsible but not that he was directly breaking the Code by pursuing a forbidden love.  It was true enough that they had disagreed over the matter of Anakin's sneaking out to go racing; the newest craze was nym-jets; smaller than pods but larger than swoops.  It wasn't as fast a race as pods but the racecourse, a maze through the underbelly of the city, was much more challenging.  However, such an alibi had not even occurred to him until Obi-Wan himself suggested it._

_We'll be living a lie, Anakin… Padme's words rose up in his mind to haunt him.  Like a sudden, sharp slap they reminded him that this was no sin of omission, but one of __commission.  A blatant, outright lie to his master._

                He'd never openly lied to Master Obi-Wan before.

                Yet here was this perfect alibi; Obi-Wan would never seek out the racers for himself, and it would conveniently divert the older Jedi's attention away from Anakin's attraction to Padme—at least for now.  Also true was the fact that Anakin could manipulate the bond enough to keep Obi-Wan outside those thoughts that would give the lie away…

                _We'll be living a lie…Could you live with that?  _

                He'd known then that this moment would come, but had rushed ahead heedless, and now the moment had arrived.  Anakin suddenly hung his head a little, his eyes seeking the floor at his feet.  He could _feel Obi-Wan's steady stare._

                "No, Master." He finally answered quietly.  "After I delivered your message, Padme invited me to a late meal and I didn't see the harm in spending the time with a friend…"  That was true; she had asked him to join her for the evening meal and he had been all too willing to oblige.  "Then I took her to see the Kamerang Lights.  All the time she's been here and she's never seen them."  That also was true; what he did not speak of were the hours between the meal and the lightshow, spent making love together.  Hesitantly he looked up to gauge Obi-Wan's reaction.

                "What?" Obi-Wan nearly dropped his jaw in surprise.  "You took Senator Amidala…to the Kamerang District…_alone?"_

                _Oh no.  Anakin thought.  __Here it comes…_

                Obi-Wan merely shook his head a moment.  "With all the attempts that have been made on her life and you took her down there?"

                That wasn't what Anakin had been expecting; he'd thought instantly that Obi-Wan had put two and two together and had come up with mating jerubunnies and he nearly breathed a sigh of relief.

                "Up, Master.  We observed from The Tower." Anakin supplied.  "I never would've put Padme in danger.  And the Council has already entrusted her safekeeping to me before—"

                "Oh and look how well _that one turned out.  She was nearly executed!" Obi-Wan shot back, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them.  Immediately he regretted them and he held up a hand.  "Anakin, I'm sorry.  I didn't—"_

                "Yes you did, Master." Anakin replied before Obi-Wan could finish; his voice an odd mixture of anger, hurt and guilt.  "And I deserved it."

                "Padawan…" Kenobi sighed softly now, shoulders sagging a little with a rush of weariness and remorse over his rashly spoken words.  "I apologize.  I just don't want any harm to come to you."

                "Because if it did, then you wouldn't be able to keep your precious promise to Master Qui-Gon!" Anakin accused, his own emotions now spilling over into heated words.  "That's all I am to you, is a stupid promise."  His breath hitched in his throat as Obi-Wan's expression fell into something painful enough to bring to a screeching halt any further words.

                "Anakin!" Obi-Wan murmured now, his hushed voice as pained as his expression.  But nothing more would come, only a small choked sound at the back of his throat.  Two sets of eyes stared for a long moment in the stunned silence that followed.

                Wordlessly the Knight limped back out onto the balcony, seeking solace in the early morning sunrise.  Likely he would meditate, Anakin thought, seeking the peace of the Force to mend what had just been wounded.  Anakin closed his eyes, berating himself.  _Idiot!  He thought.  The idea of hiding the truth __with the truth instead of with a lie was __keep from hurting his master…_

                A single tear slipped from beneath one eyelid as he considered his choices and how they would change everything forever…had _already changed everything…perhaps denying him forever the one thing that he'd ever wanted from his master…_

                On the balcony, a heavy-hearted sigh escaped Obi-Wan as he felt another brick go up on the wall that seemed always to separate him from his apprentice.  Would it really be such a terrible thing to admit a little more often to young Jedi that he cared?  Yes, it was true that he had not _chosen Anakin as his Padawan of his own accord, and yes it was true that his charge's unique situation had required a bit of a firmer hand in his training.  Yet despite those things he had grown rather affectionate of heart toward the boy over the years._

                Truly Obi-Wan wanted Anakin to have the same sort of rapport in their relationship that he had himself shared with Qui-Gon, the kind of faith in one another that bound them together as inexorably as blood family.  The Jedi sighed again, softly.  Just for every two steps they took in the _right direction, like their breakfast discussion a day earlier, it seemed that somehow they managed to turn right around and take three more in the __wrong direction.  __Like now.  He reflected bleakly, reaching up once again to rub at irritated eyes that longed for rest._

                "Master?"

                He snapped his head up at Anakin's soft voice behind him, and there was such a heartbreakingly hopeful look on his apprentice's face that Obi-Wan instantly wished he could rewrite time and take back the words between them.

                "Yes, my Padawan?"

                "I'm…I'm sorry I said that about Master Jinn…I never should have—"  Anakin stopped in mid-sentence as his master raised a hand to stay the apology.

                "Don't be, my Padawan.  It's not your fault…rather it is mine."  Blue-grey eyes bore the weight of the past ten years and, Anakin reflected silently, the burdens of this present mission.  "Now we only have a few hours before we are to depart for Uleare; I suggest that you spend a couple of them sleeping.  It will serve our purpose to have clear heads going into this.  Do you have your things ready?"

                "Yes, Master." Anakin answered quietly.  He knew Obi-Wan well enough to know that the Jedi was taking the responsibility for their argument on himself, and that there would be no further discussion of it.  He sighed softly; while it was true that Obi-Wan had spoken out of the heat of the moment—exhaustion, worry, and upset allowed to take over for a brief moment—still, the whole discussion would not have been necessary had he been firmer with Padme, with his own emotions, and returned at a reasonable hour.  He looked at his master once again, his own blue eyes reflecting his quiet upset, and Obi-Wan smiled a little, coming closer to place a hand on his shoulder.

                "It's all right, Anakin.  It was a mistake, my mistake and I promise you I won't make it again."

                "I'm sorry I worried you, Master."

                "Well…that…" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.  "Next time at least let me know what your intentions are before you go wandering off until sunrise."  There was a bit of lightness in his tone but at the same time, Anakin could feel the implicit, 'don't do that again' in it.

                "Yes, Master."

                "Now go get some sleep; I'll wake you when it's time to go."

                Anakin retreated, knowing he likely would not sleep; his mind was too full…of Padme, of their night, of Obi-Wan and how hiding this relationship would likely distance them still further from one another.

                On the balcony, Obi-Wan settled down to meditate; more than sleep, he needed to center himself; this mission to Uleare was not only personally important but the Council needed to know what was going on.  They could not afford another threat to the Order with the war hanging over their heads, ready to break like a summer storm.

++++++

                It was all done rather quietly and rather neatly, especially for a battlegroup this size.  Forming up in the Charmadis Sector at the behest of his master, Count Dooku was simply awaiting his master's orders.  He was certain it would be one of the outlying systems; someplace strategic yet small, not nearly a Core World just yet but not as useless as an Outer Rim territory either.  A foothold for the Coalition in order to secure the Republic's attention to the war and away from other, more subtle things.

                Like the destruction of the Jedi.

                He was well pleased that his master had seen fit to begin the purge of the Order; it was something long discussed between the two of them.  There was a fair amount of complacency that had settled into the Order as a whole and the Council's ignorance of things happening right in their backyard had only helped settle it in Dooku's mind that it was time for a change.  The old ashes must be swept away so that the new spark could be fanned into full flame.

                "Count…"

                Dooku paused a moment in his reflections to turn and face the slender messenger that had come to him.  The boy—merely a stripling—but one of Jango Fett's perfect clones bowed slightly at the acknowledgement then continued.  "The last of the transports has arrived.  They are preparing their troops for your order."

                "Very good, Adhe.  Return to your station and report immediately when my master transmits."

                "Yes, Count."

                Dooku flexed his fingers, the itch to fight fairly coursing through his skin, staged war or not.  For in the end something new and strong would rise from its bloody fields…something stronger than the Republic had been, something more powerful than the Jedi could ever become.  And his place in it would be most satisfactory.

                Most satisfactory indeed.

++++++

                The journey to the transport Master Yoda had arranged for them was accomplished in relative silence; Anakin wrapped up in thoughts of being apart from Padme and Obi-Wan allowing himself to close his eyes and semi-doze in the ten minutes time the air-car ride took.

                Arriving at the requested platform, the air-car driver carefully docked up.  Anakin reached over and gently nudged his master, and was rewarded with a small gasp and quickly opened blue-grey eyes.

                "I wasn't sleeping." Obi-Wan protested, and Anakin laughed a little.

                "Yes you were, Master."

                Giving his padawan a wise look that then turned into a sheepish smile, Obi-Wan slowly stood up, picking up the cane and the small bag he'd brought along.

                "I guess I was."  He nodded toward the little side door that had slid open and handed his bag to Anakin.  "Go get us settled in; I'll be along directly."

                "Yes, Master."  Anakin accepted the lightly packed back and slung his own belongings over his shoulder.  He started off across the landing platform as Obi-Wan turned to the air-car driver and dug around in his robes for the handful of credits necessary.

                "Six-six and two." The driver, a short humanoid nearly half Obi-Wan's height, said shortly.  Kenobi counted out the correct credits and tossed a few extra in; air-car drivers basically scraped by on what tips they could get, which often in this section of town were not much.  His eyes widened a bit at the Jedi's generosity and he bowed his head once.  "Gratefully I speak a good journey to you, Jedi."

                "May the Force be with you." Obi-Wan replied with a slight inclination of his head in return and a smile.  He crossed the landing platform as the air-car jetted away, looking over the transport with a practiced eye.

                She was the _Moonrise Trader, a small passenger transport of Mon Cal registry, which surprised him as most of her crew, at least the ones he could see so far, were mostly human.  Someone obviously must have paid a fair amount of credits to add this little beauty to their service fleet, he surmised.  And, he thought with a slight grin, he could only imagine what sort of bargaining Master Yoda had done to secure a spot for two Jedi on a vessel such as this._

                For truly, this was not generally the style in which most Jedi met their missions; normally they favored a much more simple approach.  Luxuries were not considered as they were only temporary fleeting things to begin with.  _But they'd be expecting a stock freighter or an unregistered arrival.  He realized suddenly.  Master Yoda had sought to conceal their arrival by putting them unexpectedly right under the Ulearans' noses._

                Clever.  And a rather pleasant surprise, he decided.

                Boarding the vessel with the small passkey he'd been provided, he caught up to his Padawan, who was just coming forward from one of the farther cubicles.

                "We've been given a nice compartment near the back, Master." He said, dangling another passkey between his fingers for Obi-Wan to take.  "What'd we do to rate a ride like this?"

                Obi-Wan took the key and despite his weariness, smiled at his Padawan's youthful enthusiasm.

                "Couldn't possibly be because I'm half crippled and you're a recovering amputee now, would it?" He replied lightly, but Anakin noted a slight undercurrent to the words and his expression sobered a bit.

                "You're worried about the mission, aren't you, Master?"

                "A little.  We must trust in the Force, young Padawan, but I must admit that we are at something of a disadvantage."

                "Don't worry." Anakin said as firmly as possible.  "We'll be all right, Master Obi-Wan.  I'll watch your back, I promise you."  Obi-Wan smiled again, this time at his apprentice's determination to succeed.

                "I believe you will, my Padawan.  Now let me see this compartment for myself…I think it would be prudent if we spent most of our journey in it."  Obi-Wan glanced around observantly; it was a small transport for its type and there were relatively few passengers aboard as of yet.  "We should keep as low a profile as possible."

                "Might I stay forward until we go to hyper, Master?" Anakin asked hopefully, his eyes reflecting it as much as his voice.  Even as a passenger and not at the controls, the younger Jedi loved flying and even though this particular vessel was built more for comfort than for speed, taking off over Coruscant was still something of an experience.  Obi-Wan hesitated a moment, then nodded.

                "Just be sure you return once the ship goes hyper."

                Anakin nodded eagerly and set off for one of the forward seats to get a good view.  Shaking his head a little, Obi-Wan proceeded to the compartment they'd been assigned and waved the key in front of the sensor-lock.  The door slid open and he stepped inside, appraising their quarters briefly.  It was totally different from the more austere travel arrangements that he was accustomed to in his years as a Jedi; normally they would have sparse quarters at best with perhaps a sleeping mat or a conform couch.  This chamber had two very soft-looking sleep couches and a table with a bowl of assorted fruit, a small chest of drawers and a pair of rather comfortable looking repulsor chairs.

                His stomach growled suddenly, reminding him that he was almost as hungry as he was tired, and he picked out a likely-looking piece of fruit as he crossed over to the portal and glanced outside at the other side of the landing platform.  Crewmen scuttled here and there, loading last-minute items and preparing the ship for takeoff.  Biting into the fruit he found that, though it was a type unfamiliar to him, it was pleasingly sweet with tender flesh and he made a mental note to personally thank Master Yoda for allowing them this little bit of luxury, even if it was meant as a ruse.

                Finishing the oddly-shaped fruit, he crossed over to the nearer of the sleep couches and laid down, sighing wearily.  The sleep couch itself and the pillow were so soft that he instantly felt himself relax and his eyelids grow heavy with put-off slumber.  Moments later the Jedi had drifted off to sleep.

++++++

                Ich'im had kept a close eye on the Jedi pair the moment they had stepped from the air-car; his attention briefly divided as the apprentice boarded first and his target remained behind a moment, ostensibly to pay the driver, he assumed.  He had been rather pleased to see that his job was made simpler by the fact that the two of them had been assigned one of the compartments farthest from the front, making them a bit more isolated.  He was still _further pleased when the two had remained separated, the apprentice going forward, probably to watch their launch and ascent and the master retiring to their assigned quarters, probably to keep a distance from the other passengers._

                There were still several minutes before the transport was scheduled to take off; he busied himself doing tasks alongside the other crewmen, biding his time, knowing that he wanted to wait until the vessel had made hyperspace to make his move.  The longer it took the apprentice to get any help, the easier it would be to kill the master.  He then would simply make his way from the vessel at their first port of call and return to Coruscant.  Easy enough…almost too easy.  At least for a Jedi there should have been a little more challenge.  But the fact that his species was fairly Force-deadened, rendering him fairly impervious to things like mind-tricks or subtle probes was more than simple genetics; it was a life-saver in this business.

                Making his way through the narrow corridors toward the back, Ich'im knew now that all that was needed was patience and timing.  Both of which he had in his favor.

++++++

                Anakin settled into one of the forward-most seats he could find, near a small viewport to watch their launch and rise over the city-planet below.  This view never ceased to fascinate him, no matter from which part of the city he happened to be taking off over.

                Once settled so, he did has his master had done earlier, sweeping the area around him with a practiced, steady gaze and a questioning, curious tendril of the Force, probing those around him for evil intent.  One of the crew passed him by and Anakin nearly did a double-take as his Force inquiry bounced silently back to him.  Then he realized what species the crewman belonged to and vaguely remembered them as a Force-silent race.

                Feeling no hostile intent and seeing that most people were simply busying themselves with their luggage or their children, he nodded once to himself.  Secure.  Then he felt back along the training bond.

                Master?

                There was no response save a soft ripple that gave him to know that his master was at last sleeping.  _Good, he thought.  __Force knows he needs it.  It had pretty much gone as he'd suspected; those few hours in his room had been spent mostly tossing and turning and thinking of Padme although he did manage a __little sleep, and as for his master…well, Anakin had awakened of his own accord and found Obi-Wan meditating out on the balcony, just as he'd thought he would._

                Those thoughts dropped away as the sudden faint thrum of engines could be felt through the deckplates, ever-so-slightly vibrating the soles of his feet.  Mon Cal vessels were prized not only for their design but also for their engines.  Anakin felt the familiar pulse of excitement race through him as the vessel retracted her moorings, hovered a bit and retracted her landing gear.  Then she was rising above the city, airborne and freed as Anakin himself had been all those years ago on Tatooine.

                Tatooine.  He could not think of his homeworld now without the pain of loss.

                Anakin pursed his lips into a thin line as he thought about his mother's grave deep beneath the shifting sands of Tatooine; he hadn't allowed himself to think on it often since Geonosis and why it should disturb his thoughts now, at the start of a new mission, he did not know.  Abruptly his hot words of raw pain echoed in his mind…_Someday I'll even find a way to stop people from dying!_

                The young Jedi shivered once as he considered those anguished words flung out to Padme.  There had been some power behind them, desperate and passionate and…frightening somehow.

                But what could be so frightening about wanting to stop senseless deaths from happening?

                Pushing aside his troubled thoughts, he gazed back out the viewport to the burgeoning view of space through the last gauzy layers of Coruscant's atmosphere.

++++++

                "Yes, my Master.  What is your command?"  Dooku spoke respectfully, though it sometimes rankled him to be owned.

                "Move against the Varix System.  There will be little resistance from the native population and I'm sure we can raise the alarm sufficiently to mobilize the troops necessary for a convincing battle with the Republic.  Target as many Jedi as arrive to oversee the deployment of the clone troops."

                "Yes, Master." Dooku smiled thinly now.  "At long last the moment we've waited for is at hand."

                "What progress is there on the project?"

                "The initial framework is being constructed even as we speak.  And the first conscription from Uleare has begun."

                "Good…very good.  Keep me apprised."

                The transmission ended abruptly, leaving Dooku to complete his assignment.  The thin smile grew into something that was both more pleasant and yet more fearsome all at once.

                "Captain Moreith." He called out coldly, and the ship's captain came to him smartly.  "Sound the call.  We are going to Varix."

++++++

                Ich'im made his way into the galleys, staying out of the way and remaining somewhat inconspicuous.  The noon meal was being readied for the passengers and once he was relatively certain he could proceed with a minimum of interference, the assassin joined the serving staff, taking up the small repulsor cart that was marked for the rear section of the vessel, including the compartment assigned to the two Jedi.

                True to form, Jedi were accustomed to simpler fare and the meals reflected that, albeit with the elegance of a professional staff.  Whosever idea it had been to put the Jedi here, he didn't know but it certainly was unusual.  Ich'im pulled the cart aside into a small service alcove and removed a small vial from his borrowed uniform and poured its contents into the small carafe of water that accompanied Kenobi's meal.  Colorless and odorless, the substance dissolved into the liquid effortlessly.

                Ich'im returned the cart to the main serving area and motioned to one of the more hapless-looking crew, a humanoid male that looked to be no more than a young boy and likely was a new conscript.

                "You, boy." He commanded coolly, and the crewman snapped to.

                "Yes, sir."

                "You'll come with me now."

                "Y…yes sir."  The boy followed him into the passageway and they started off on their "rounds", with the Jedi quarters the last to be visited.  Ich'im would then send the cart back to the galley with the boy and would go on to hide himself in one of the lower cargo bays until they reached their first destination.

                "You take that side, I'll take this one."  Ich'im commanded gruffly and the boy complied.  They had just gone hyper, the assassin surmised, as they reached the last two compartments on this side of the ship.  Ich'im paused a moment as the boy picked up the trays intended for Kenobi and his apprentice.

                The galley-boy palmed the small doorchime.


	11. Battlefronts

Next part!  Hopefully will have more for you soon...after an SW movie marathon yesterday the muse _should be more cooperative.  ;)  Enjoy!_

= Thoughts transmitted through the master/apprentice bond.

ELEVEN

                Anakin hadn't moved an inch from the time the _Moonrise Trader had begun to pull in her landing gear until the moment she went into hyperspace, the stars becoming bedazzling streaks of light in the black velvet of space.  It was a mesmerizing sight, certainly, but he had promised Master Obi-Wan that he would return as soon as the ship had made the jump._

                He started to rise, when a small tug at his sleeve caught his attention and he found himself looking down at a small child, no more than four or five standard years old, with very wide green eyes and raven black hair that hung nearly to her waist.

                "Are you a magic man?" She whispered wonderingly, and Anakin suppressed the urge to laugh.  But he did smile, and he sat back down again so they were partially shielded from others' view.  "Well…are you?  My brother says people who look like you are magic people."

                "Well…" Anakin smiled slyly.  "If you promise not to tell anyone…only your brother…"  The girl nodded vigorously.  Raising his good hand toward her, he lifted her ever so gently with the Force, dangling her feet some few inches off the ground.  At first the girl gasped in surprise but then giggled insanely as she kicked her feet and found the "floating" to be an agreeable sensation.  Anakin lowered her to the deck and she continued to laugh.

                "You are a magic man!  I have to clean Waric's room for a week now."  Still laughing, the girl ran pell-mell down the corridor between the seats to where a slightly older boy, apparently her brother Waric, sat waiting for her.  He could almost hear the whispered, 'See I told you so' as the boy helped her into the seat next to him.  Anakin followed at a more sedate pace until he had reached the two, sitting together and looking up at him somewhat in awe.

                "You really made her float?" Waric's eyes were wide.  "How did you do that?"

                "That's a secret." Anakin placed a finger over his lips, and the boy nodded.  Hunching down next to them, Anakin looked left and right.  No adults nearby.  "Are you two all alone?"

                "Uh huh." The little girl said.

                "Sshh, Teria, we aren't supposed to tell strangers things about us." Waric said, as if suddenly remembering that after the fact.  Anakin chuckled a little now.

                "It's all right.  Magic people like me won't hurt you, Waric."  The boy's eyes grew even bigger, if that were possible.

                "How…how did you know my name?" The child squeaked out.  "Did you…read my mind or something?"  Anakin outright laughed now.

                "No.  Your sister told me."

                "Teria!" Waric hissed.

                "Well…" Anakin pointed out.  "You've given away your sister's name too."  At that revelation, the boy's cheeks colored in embarrassment and Teria giggled again.

                "We're on our way to meet our grandmother on Uleare." Waric supplied readily, and Anakin nodded, having already recognized the girl as being of Ulearean descent.  "Can you show us another magic trick?"

++++++

                Obi-Wan had sleepily answered the door, the chime startling him into wakefulness long before his own internal clock would have.  On the other side stood one of the ship's crew, holding a pair of trays and looking suddenly nervous to be facing a not-totally-coherent Jedi.

                "It's all right." Obi-Wan reassured him.  "I would have had to wake up sooner or later."  _Preferably later.  However he did not voice the thought; the crewman looked barely old enough to be of working age and was already nervous enough.  Taking the trays from his visitor's grasp, he found the few credits he had at hand and handed them over._

                "No, Master Jedi." The boy said nervously. "Keep your credits.  It is…a…it is an honor to have you aboard."  _So much for the low profile…_

                So saying, the young one nodded his head deferentially and scuttled away, yanking on the handle of the repulsor cart vigorously.  Across the way, an older crewman with some greater measure of calm was serving the guests in that compartment; Obi-Wan barely took notice of him as he turned back into the room, the aroma of the meal doing more to awaken him and remind him that he'd only had a single piece of fruit in the last twelve hours.

                As the door slid closed behind him, he took note that they had gone into hyperspace, the distortion of space evident through the portal on the far side of the room and the slightly deeper thrum of the hyperdrive detectable.  Which meant Anakin should be joining him shortly.  Placing the trays onto the table, he went back into the small 'fresher—smaller even than the one in their quarters at the Temple; the accommodation's only drawback—and splashed a little water onto his face, trying to bring himself to some semblance of intelligent consciousness.

                Wandering back out into the main area, he crossed back to the table and sighed.  It was apparent that Anakin had delayed his return; Obi-Wan supposed he should wait a little longer, at least give the padawan a chance to return on his own before calling him back through the bond.  Yawning a little, not quite comfortable with being awake yet despite the cool water on the face routine, he reached for the glass on the tray.  Impatience ill-became a Jedi.  Qui-Gon had told him that often enough as an apprentice, so he could little afford to ignore that now as a Knight with his own apprentice.  But there wasn't anything so impatient about having some water while he waited, and while the fruit earlier had been sweet it had also left him thirsty.  Picking up the carafe that sat on the edge of his own tray, Obi-Wan poured himself a partial glass and walked over to the large transparisteel portal, looking out into the endless reaches of space that rushed by in distorted streaks of light.

                Wondering absently just what sort of time a ship of this type would make, he raised the glass to his lips.

++++++

                Ich'im watched the boy as he returned the cart to its rightful place and prepared to go about other duties that had been assigned to him.  Concealed in a small alcove, he waited until the young crewman exited the galley and started down the passageway.

                Coming up silently and swiftly behind him, he grabbed the boy and expertly snapped his neck before the luckless conscript could make a sound.  No witnesses.  Quickly he deposited the body in the main trash receptacle; if this ship was true to form for most passenger liners, it would make a trash dump every half hour.  And by the time anyone realized the galley-boy was missing, Ich'im would already be on his way back to Coruscant.

                A little confident? Perhaps.  But he knew that this was foolproof; the Jedi would die.

                Moving quickly, he headed for the lower deck access point, intent on concealing himself in one of the smaller cargo-bays.

++++++

                Anakin laughed when the children did, his antics involving the Force and a small handful of wooden blocks entertaining the lonely little youngsters immensely.  Suddenly he was aware that he was very late in returning to his master, and he stood up abruptly.  Waric dropped his jaw a little and Teria pouted a bit, even though the blocks still floated lazily between them.

                "I'll be back, I promise.  I just—"

                A sensation swept over Anakin, brief but chill…it was enough to disrupt his concentration and send the blocks tumbling to the floor and for a moment his vision blurred.  After a moment he realized what he was feeling and without a word to the children, he started to make his way back through the other passengers, heading for the accommodation levels.

                Master?  What is it? He sent through the bond, certain that he had felt something from Obi-Wan.  The same sensation, only stronger this time, rolled over the apprentice and he paused, leaning on the wall for a moment until it passed.  Master?!

                _Hurry. Obi-Wan's single-word reply was enough to frighten the apprentice; it was not a strong contact and sounded strangely distant in Anakin's mind.  Worry fueled his steps as he reached the corridor leading back to the passenger compartments; he broke into a run to reach his master._

                The next sensation to slam into Anakin was pain.  Sharp, intense pain and Anakin forced himself to push through it, knowing it was his master he felt and that something was deeply and desperately wrong.  Skidding to a halt outside their compartment, he impatiently waved the passkey and rushed in.

                "Master!" He choked out.

                Obi-Wan lay motionless on the floor where he'd collapsed; his only response to Anakin's cry was a faint groan.  A mere inch from his outstretched hand was a glass he'd dropped, its contents spilled.  Anakin quickly knelt beside him, laying his good hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.  "Master…" He murmured softly.  "I'm here…I'm right here."  Anakin bit his lip; his master was unresponsive and pale, too pale.  He moved to place his hand on Obi-Wan's forehead, stretching out into the Force, reaching into the bond, trying to find out what was wrong.

He was met with a storm of dizziness and pain.  Obi-Wan moaned again and Anakin swallowed convulsively; his master was hurting badly, sharp cramps driving the breath from him in short, shallow gasps.  Anakin slipped his prosthetic hand behind his master's shoulders, cradling him a little and placed the flat of his other hand against the stricken Jedi's stomach.  Stretching out once more, he tried to ease the pain, doing his best to absorb some of it and release it into the Force, as he'd been taught to do.  Healing was not his strength, but Anakin concentrated as much as he could to bring his master some relief.  It seemed to help a little; after a long moment Obi-Wan seemed to relax somewhat and his eyes fluttered open.

"_Anakin…"_

"Sshh, Master…don't try to talk." The padawan sensed that speaking was something of an effort.  "Let me help you."  Anakin tried again to draw off some of the hurt and was again marginally successful, enough so that Obi-Wan's breathing seemed to come a little easier, not quite so rapid and shallow.

Obi-Wan blinked dazedly; he tried to focus on his padawan's face but everything seemed to spin.  He could feel Anakin's efforts to afford him some release from the pain; it felt like someone was digging around inside his stomach with a vibroblade and while Anakin was no healer, the padawan's attempts _were helping.  He wasn't sure exactly how he'd come to be lying on the floor; everything was fuzzy.  He remembered feeling a little lightheaded…dizzy…and then there'd been a slight twinge inside…_

The first pains had fairly folded him over, dropping him neatly to his knees, the glass slipping from his fingers.  He'd felt Anakin's call through the bond.  _Hurry.  It was all he could get out before the dizziness swept over him again, stronger.  He must have passed out then, for the next thing he'd been aware of was his padawan's anxious voice and careful touch._

"Anakin…" He murmured again.

"Easy, Master." He heard Anakin soothe, even though there was a nervous tremor in the young voice.  "Do you think you can stand?"

"I can…try."

Anakin shifted now, moving to help Obi-Wan from the floor, getting an arm around his master as the Jedi swayed dizzily.  For a moment Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut against the spinning sensation, then nodded a little and Anakin guided him over to the nearer sleep couch.

"I'll get help." Anakin reassured.  He didn't really want to leave Master Obi-Wan alone, but he didn't know what else to do; they were stuck in hyperspace Force only knew how far away from Coruscant already.  He laid a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder, letting the Force flow through him.  Rest. He commanded gently through the bond, and he felt his master relax a little beneath his touch.  "I'll be right back, I promise."

Obi-Wan nodded drowsily.  _Force…he's getting too good at that.  But he was too ill to fight it and so allowed himself to drift a little on Anakin's Force-enhanced suggestion._

Anakin looked down at his master a moment as those blue-grey eyes slipped shut.  A cold feeling gathered in the pit of his stomach, an icy finger of fear stabbing through him briefly.  _Fear is the path to the Dark Side... He could almost hear Master Yoda's admonition even now and he forcefully squashed down his feelings the best he could; he never quite felt as if he was able to banish them completely but right now his focus must be on helping his master.  With one more reassuring touch through the training bond, Anakin hurried from the room to do what he could to seek aid._

The first thing he did was check in with the ship's infirmary; granted it would be nothing compared to true Jedi healers in the Healing Wing at the Temple, but perhaps they could render enough care to Obi-Wan to help him until they made port.  But he was only disappointed when he discovered the ship was picking up their staff physician at their first destination on Aure IV.

Which was another problem…Aure IV was still some distance away and Anakin didn't know if he dared wait that long to find help for his master.  Somehow he had the sinking feeling that time was not on his side; he sensed that this was something more than just an unexpected illness.

_The glass.  Anakin stopped a moment in his tracks as he recalled the emptied glass lying on the floor alongside Obi-Wan, and the realization stole over him that his master had been poisoned…someone wanted to kill him.  Someone __on this ship…wanted to kill his master.  Anakin's throat constricted as he resumed his journey, his steps quickened by this new and disturbing sense._

He headed this time straight for the command cabin, ignoring the strange looks he received from crew, although none dared approach him; most of them had not known there would be Jedi on board and this one certainly did not look like Jedi they wished to confront or question.

There was security of course, and they blocked his entrance to the cabin; non-crew was never allowed inside the control rooms.  Anakin drew a deep breath.  _Hope I can do this as well as Master Obi-Wan.  He thought briefly before raising his hand just slightly._

"I must speak with the captain." His voice was quiet yet steady, confident.  "He must hear me out."

"He needs to talk with Captain Taran. Let him in." The nearer guard responded first, and the second one blinked a moment then nodded, standing aside.  Anakin quickly stepped through the open door; despite his concerns for Master Obi-Wan, he was elated that the mind-trick had been accomplished so easily.  Often his attempts were only partially successful, derailed by his own impatience, and now when it mattered most he had been able to pull it off.  _When Master Obi-Wan is better, I will have to tell him about this one…_

Jeric Taran was a tall man, reedy, but with the sort of steely eyes that told those who served under him to be prepared to function like a military man, for that was Taran's background.  He'd served once with the militia of his own homeworld and knew how to keep a ship operating smoothly and flawlessly.  His rules were law aboard the _Moonrise Trader just as if she'd been part of a military fleet._

One of those rules was no passengers in the command cabin.

Needless to say by the time Anakin had crossed the room to him, Taran was displeased and Anakin had discovered that a mind-trick was unlikely to work with this one; he was going to have to use good old fashioned diplomacy and persuasion.

"I knew taking you Jedi on board would be a problem." Taran huffed a bit.  "Always is with your kind."

"Captain." Anakin began, his tone carefully controlled as he sought to ignore the meanly spoken words.  "I have an important request.  We must turn the ship around; we must return to Coruscant."

"Are you insane?" Taran was blunt.  "We're already halfway to Aure.  Have you no respect for things like schedules and timetables, Jedi?"

"I understand that you have obligations, Captain.  But this is important.  My master is very ill and we must return to the Jedi Temple at once." Anakin tried to hold his anger in check.  "Please, turn the ship around."

"I've just told you that we will stop at Aure.  There are medical facilities there as well as return transports.  Now get off my bridge, Jedi.  You tend to your problems and I'll tend to mine." The captain started to turn away, and Anakin drew in a deep breath.

"You don't seem to understand, Captain.  You have an attempted murderer aboard this vessel; my master was poisoned!  How do you think _that news will play among your passengers?"_

"Do you have any proof of such an attack, Jedi?" Taran asked calmly.

"Not yet, but I will.  For Force's sake, Captain please return us to Coruscant."

Toran gave the young padawan the sort of withering gaze that made his junior crewmen scuttle away in fear.

"Do all Jedi have such trouble understanding the word 'no,' or is it only special ones like you?"

Anakin was not about to back down from the captain's gaze but rather returned it fully, his eyes darkening a bit with his frustrations.

"Do all service crew have such trouble with intelligence or is it only special ones like you?" Anakin fired back, coming to an end of his patience.  He would not risk Master Obi-Wan's life on the likes of this stubborn, prejudiced halfwit.  "I told you that you have a murderer on board.  Now unless you want to be held responsible for the blood of a Jedi Knight…" Anakin let the threat hang in the air, one hand straying almost casually to pull aside his robe and rest lightly upon the hilt of his lightsaber.

Heads snapped up all around; crewmembers who had studiously been avoiding the confrontation now looked up to see what was going on.  It was generally not expected of a Jedi to make such a threat; to hear one voiced could only be regarded seriously.  All eyes were on their captain and this tall young Jedi in an instant.

"And what about your conscience, Jedi?" The liner captain asked coldly.  "My blood on your hands.  I thought your kind disdained such violence."

_I've already killed once to avenge someone I cared for. Anakin thought but did not speak aloud.  The Tuskens were nothing to him in that moment; he had simply taken his revenge for his mother on the entire camp.  This arrogant, unkind transport captain would not be much different if Master Obi-Wan died.  __Fear leads to anger...  Anakin's breath caught in his throat; for three weeks now he had been trying to bury that memory and the threat that it represented.  With a great effort, he shoved aside his growing fury and gained some control.  Still…there was nothing saying he couldn't take advantage of the moment his anger had created._

Ice-cold blue eyes bored into other man with an intensity that made the crewmembers rapidly duck back down to their tasks; this Jedi looked more volatile than their captain could and that was enough to hasten their attention elsewhere.  However a second later heads popped back up again as the sudden hum of an ignited saber reached their ears.  Their shock registered with Anakin as they took in the sight of the blue blade wavering dangerously beneath the chin of Jeric Taran.

"You had better hope to whatever gods you believe in that my master does not die before we reach Aure."  Anakin held his position a moment longer, letting the captain weigh his situation before retracting the blade and striding from the command center.

He clipped the saber back to its place as he hastened back toward the compartment.  It was a new saber, still somewhat unfamiliar feeling to his hand, constructed shortly after his release from the Healing Wing after Geonosis.  It had been fashioned after his master's own weapon, blue-bladed like Master Obi-Wan's rather than green-bladed like Master Qui-Gon's had been.  He recalled briefly the look of pleasure that had crossed Kenobi's face when the new weapon had been ignited for the first time in the sparring ring when Anakin had resumed lightsaber practice with one of his classmates.

The memory stabbed at him briefly, adding to the icy chill in his gut.  Quickening his pace, he hurried to return to his master's side.

++++++

                Varix was an uncomplicated world by most standards; not quite primitive but far from state-of-the-art.  The first of the droid armies were already landing on the surface, the planetary defense systems having been rather easily overcome.  As yet his master's clone troops had not arrived to stage the battle; things were proceeding at almost a leisurely sort of pace.  Soon Varix would be firmly held beneath within his grasp and its resources made available to their efforts.

                "We are in position to land the main force near the capital city of the northern continent."

                Dooku nodded a little at the report, not bothering to look to see who delivered it.

                "Continue your landing and strike the capital.  Then we will be in a position to draw some attention from the Republic."

                "Yes, Count.  The landing will begin at once."

                So it was done…they were committed and the war to build a new galaxy had begun.

++++++

                _Death…destruction…pain…suffering.  The vision swirled all around him, and he scrunched his eyes tightly closed, as if he could shut it out although he knew he must listen, must watch, and must pay attention to it.  The lives being destroyed before his very eyes still lived, still breathed but would not for long; the demise he foresaw for them was imminent._

                The war that had raised its ugly head at Geonosis was now taking its first hungry bite.  Taking a deep, saddened breath he listened still further, heard the screams of young children and the death cries of brave men, smelled the acrid smoke of burning buildings and tasted the sorrow of loss.

                He concentrated still further, looking into the eyes and faces, seeking their origin, asking for their beginnings before they reached their endings.  They could not tell him, the fields of blood would not reveal their name.  He did not know what world upon which their slaughter was achieved.

                The Force was silent even as it screamed the identity of the planet; he knew the name was being shouted to him but he could not hear it…could not see it.

                Could not stop it.

                Yoda opened his eyes and left the vision behind, knowing that the answer he sought, the place of the battle, was being withheld from him.  Whether by the Force's own hand or the power of the Dark Side he was not sure.  All he knew for certain was that the maelstrom was upon them and that, as ever, the Jedi would do what they could for the right and for truth.

                The tattered edges of the Republic were rapidly unraveling.

                The Force was silent.

++++++

                Obi-Wan opened his eyes slowly, swallowing a little.  He tried to raise his head, found that he was still dizzy, and laid back down.

                "Master?"  Anakin's voice, soft, nearby.  "How are you feeling?"  The youth came into view now, his expression clearly concerned.  Almost as if in answer, Obi-Wan shivered suddenly, uncontrollably.  Anakin knelt down beside the sleep couch and laid his hand on his master's forehead, wincing a little at the fever he felt.  Whatever this was, it was not meant to kill quickly.  Obi-Wan was very sick but so far had remained solidly in the world of the living.  _But for how long...?  The question haunted the padawan's mind._

                "_Cold." Obi-Wan murmured, and Anakin nodded, squeezing his shoulder lightly.  Rising, he took an extra blanket from the other sleep couch and gently draped it over his master._

                "Better?"  He asked as he tucked the edges around the shivering Jedi.  After a moment the shivering subsided a bit and Obi-Wan nodded a little.  Anakin pushed aside the bit of damp ginger hair that had fallen into his master's face.  "I tried to talk the captain into taking the ship back to Coruscant but he wouldn't hear of it.  We're putting in at Aure IV; I'm sure we can get a transport back from there."

                Obi-Wan blinked dully and nodded again.  Anakin swallowed nervously.  He wanted to find out who had done this to his master but he didn't dare leave Kenobi alone; the Jedi was in no condition to fight off any further attack and who knew what would happen if he started snooping around now.  Whoever had poisoned Obi-Wan might just decide to come back and try to finish him off faster.  Anakin exhaled slowly.  He would not allow that to happen.

                "How far?" Obi-Wan's voice brought Anakin's attention back to the moment and he looked at his master's pale face and feverishly bright eyes.  "How far…to Aure?"

                "Parsec. Or two.  We're almost there now Master, it won't be long."  Anakin reassured.  Obi-Wan closed his eyes now and Anakin bit his lip.  _Hold on, Master._

                He stayed beside Obi-Wan until the ill Jedi had once more drifted off into a light sleep.  And that is how the rest of the journey to Aure IV went…Obi-Wan drowsing, Anakin trying to keep him as comfortable as possible while fighting to hold down his own anxieties, knowing the poison was working its way deeper into his master's system and there was precious little he could do about it.

                Except get him back to Coruscant, to the healers.

                And beg the Force for a miracle.


	12. The Messenger

Finally Chapter 12. :D  Working on 13 even as we speak…thank you all for your kind comments; they really keep me going!  Enjoy.

= Thoughts transmitted through the master/apprentice bond.

TWELVE

                Senator Padmé Naberrie Amidala was more than aware of the growing unrest in the Galactic Senate regarding the Republic's long-standing relationship with the Jedi Order.  This motion on the floor now, this attempt by Malastare to regulate the Order's operations was just ridiculous.

                However ridiculous or no, it was gaining support among the senators, particularly among those who seemed to support the long-term use of the Chancellor's "emergency powers."  While it was true that desperate times often called for desperate measures, she wasn't sure if those measures should include censuring the one body that had upheld the Republic for a thousand years.

                She'd wondered at first if perhaps her opposition to this growing anti-Jedi sentiment had been based on her feelings for Anakin alone, but the more she thought about it, the less sense the motion made.  The Jedi had been nothing but guardians of peace and truth; what possible reason could there be for such fear?  She herself had been a firsthand recipient of that guardianship, first for her homeworld and then for herself…she would not dismiss it out of hand like so many others seemed willing to do.

                Of course there were always the rumors, the more arcane abilities that Jedi supposedly possessed that made lesser people fear them, suspect them.  It was often on many of these rumors that this growing movement against the Jedi was finding its support, superstition allowed to prevail over logic.  Such was the sad nature of fear…no wonder Master Kenobi trained Anakin so rigidly to resist it.

                Padmé was glad to have found an ally in Bail Organa, the senator from Alderaan.  He felt as she did, that the Jedi Knights were a necessary asset to the peace and safety of the Republic.  He had proposed a compromise, a measure that would allow the Jedi to serve in the ranks of the Republic army, as specially commissioned officers, thereby appeasing some of the more outraged systems while still allowing the Jedi _some freedom of movement within the Republic.  Already there were some whispers of titles like "General" being applied to a few choice Knights and Masters, Obi-Wan Kenobi among them._

                It wasn't what should be, but it was possibly the closest thing to it they would get if this wave of _hatred—there really was no other word for it—continued to rise.  Queen Jamillia had agreed with Padmé that a show of support for the Jedi was a good idea, since Naboo was the Chancellor's homeworld and since it was a Core World of __some influence.  The reception had been meant to display that support openly._

                Master Kenobi's unexpected mission had somewhat derailed that for the time being.

                Padmé shook herself from her reverie, pushing aside the small stack of reports she needed to go through, allowing her head to rest in her hands a moment.  She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, seeking to relieve the tired strain there, from reading.  From thinking.  From worrying.

                She wondered if Anakin and Master Kenobi had reached Uleare yet; Ani had not told her what transport they were taking or what time they were leaving or any details at all, actually.  The only reason she even knew that their destination was the Uleare system was a protracted conversation with Master Windu regarding the now-postponed reception and even then, the information had been parted with reluctantly.

                What Padmé _did know was that Uleare was not a good place for two Jedi to be.  Prior to withdrawing from the Senate, the Ulearean senator had been one of the most vocal supporters of the "restriction measure," as it was coming to be known, against the Jedi.  His contention was rumored to be highly personal; a measure of revenge for something that had happened on Uleare involving a Jedi Knight.  __We're being sent after a master and apprentice who ran into some trouble on their mission.  Anakin's own words had borne out the fact that this was a potentially dangerous assignment._

                _Stop it.  Padmé told herself firmly, drawing the small decorative shawl that accompanied her dress a little more tightly about her shoulders, even though it wasn't really __that cold.  She shook her head; it wasn't as if she'd never faced danger herself any number of times; at Geonosis she had fought at Anakin and Obi-Wan's side.    She'd known what becoming Anakin's wife meant, waiting in secret.  Jedi often—not always—but often saw danger in their missions; keeping the peace sometimes came at a price._

                _Like Master Kenobi paid on Naboo.  The thought rose unbidden in her mind, and Padmé pushed away from the desk a little, taken by surprise.  She had not thought of Qui-Gon Jinn in quite some time, and why she thought of the departed Jedi Master now she didn't know.  With that thought came the memory of that day…standing alongside the ginger-haired Jedi as they watched the body of his master burn on the funeral pyre, his spirit long fled to the Force.  One hadn't needed to be Force-sensitive to feel Obi-Wan's grief as the flames licked hungrily at the leonine features and once strong hands.  Obi-Wan's hood had been pulled low over his face but Padmé had seen him trembling ever so slightly next to her and she knew there had been tears…_

                The senator rose from her chair now, shaking herself from her dark thoughts.  She didn't understand where these fears were coming from; _I'm stronger than that.  Perhaps it was merely the fact that neither of the two Jedi had truly fully healed from their wounds on Geonosis; while she knew firsthand how skilled her husband and his master were with a lightsaber it was only logical to assume that their incomplete recovery was a danger to them both.  Should they be taken in battle, it would be that much harder for Anakin to defend his master if it came to that.  Harder than it would have been for Obi-Wan all those years ago had he been allowed to be at Qui-Gon's side in that fateful moment on Naboo._

                "Senator Amidala?"

                Padmé looked up, startled, at the sound of the soft voice, already knowing it belonged to Sabé.  The handmaiden stood framed in the doorway, dwarfed by the columns that were perfect replicas of the ones flanking the entrance to the throne room in Theed.

                "What is it, Sabé?" The senator acknowledged graciously.  Sabé inclined her head slightly then met her gaze.

                "There is a transmission coming in for you on the coded channel, milady."

                Coded channel?  At this time of day?  Sighing softly, Padmé nodded to the handmaiden.

                "I'll be right there."

++++++

                Ich'im dropped from the pressure service hatch of the small cramped bay he had called home for the past few hours, the moment the _Moonrise Trader set down.  The ship's gravity moorings hadn't even been cast yet as his feet landed heavily on the deck and he pushed the hatch closed._

                From the landing platform's far shadows, he waited and watched as the passengers began to disembark from the vessel.  For most of those leaving the transport, Aure IV was their intended destination and they labored along with luggage or whatnot.  For a few of them Aure was a momentary diversion while additional passengers and cargo were taken on.

                For two, the stop was a desperate necessity to return to Coruscant.

                Ich'im was rather well pleased to catch sight of the two Jedi as they exited the _Trader; even from this distance the assassin could tell that Kenobi didn't look so good.  His apprentice was fairly guiding him across the platform to seek return passage to the Jedi Temple._

                "You're a little late, m'boy." He murmured softly.  "But I'm sure he'll appreciate the effort."

                With that he melted away, seeking his own way back; he was sure his employer was anxious to know the results of his handiwork.

++++++

                Anakin steered his master toward the nearest shuttle-pod; there were other transport platforms nearby; surely one of them could be chartered back to Coruscant.  Between Obi-Wan's limp and the shivering that swept through his frame despite the Jedi robe drawn tightly about him, keeping his master upright and moving was quite the task.  Even though Anakin had a few inches' advantage in height, he was slighter of build and still possessed a rangy youthful awkwardness.

                "Here, Master…" He guided Obi-Wan to one of the small cushioned benches that were located throughout the open area where a few scattered passengers waited for their scheduled transports.  "Rest a minute while I try to get us something to Coruscant."  Obi-Wan sat down slowly, wrapping his arms around himself in a futile effort to stop his shaking.  "I'll be right back." Anakin reassured him as he stepped away toward one of the nearby kiosks to arrange their transportation home.

                Home.  Coruscant had always seemed so contrived to Obi-Wan.  Like all Jedi candidates, he had been taken there at a very young age, too young to really remember his own family or homeworld very much.  However he had always had the strong impression in the recesses of his mind that his place of birth had not been the most urbanized sector of his homeworld.  While Coruscant had always been the location of his dwelling-place, the Jedi Temple, the only home he'd ever known or wanted to know, Obi-Wan had always suspected that the family who might have raised him were simpler folk than that.  And that was all right with him; it left him with the imprint of awe at natural landscapes, where his Padawan was much more comfortable in the glowing neon of Coruscant's bustling heartbeat, preferring to leave the dusty memories of Tatooine behind.

                Still.  He would be glad to see the tall spires of the Temple when they arrived.

                It was only a few minutes before his padawan returned, all business.

                "W…wh…what did you…ff…find?" He managed to get out between bouts of shivering.  Anakin pulled off his own robe and wrapped it around his master's shoulders before helping Obi-Wan back to his feet.

                "It's a small Aurean ship, Master…not much more than a skip-ray really, but she's got enough for us to make Coruscant in half the time it took us to get out here on that bucket."  Skywalker explained as he clasped Obi-Wan's left wrist and ducked his head long enough to drape his master's arm across his shoulders, placing his prosthetic arm at Obi-Wan's back.  He didn't care if anybody stared; the artificial limb was stronger, supporting Obi-Wan a little more as Anakin directed his unsteady steps.

                Somehow they made it to the shuttle-pod that had been their destination; Anakin gave the driver the location of their ship's landing platform as they entered, and steered his master to the closest seat available. Obi-Wan sank gratefully into it.  He looked Anakin thought, even paler than before if that was possible and the young Jedi sent a cautious, comforting touch into the bond.  He was met with tightly raised mental shields and perceived that to be a sign that Obi-Wan was hiding his discomfort.  Master? Anakin inquired gently.  It's all right; I know it hurts.  Is it bad?

                Obi-Wan felt the question, the careful worried mental touch.  Without dropping the shields he had put into place, he simply nodded once.  Truth be told, walking had been agonizing; sitting here holding his head upright was only slightly less so.  The steady aching that had begun to spread throughout his body was rapidly becoming a searing haze; every movement hurt right down to his fingers and toes.

                It's…tolerable.

                The shuttle-pod detached from the landing platform, the slight lurch making Obi-Wan wince in spite of himself, his sudden soft gasp betraying his pain.  Anakin's concerned expression deepened as he watched his master hunch forward slightly.

                "I'll get you home, Master.  You're going to be all right.  I promise."

                The journey to their destination was less than two standard minutes; most of the landing platforms on Aure IV were similar to those on Coruscant.  Space wasn't nearly at such a premium here as it was on the capitol planet, but Aure's thriving tourist trade necessitated the most efficient ordering of its interplanetary travel.

                The Aurean skip-ray Anakin had secured for them was actually a little larger than Obi-Wan had been expecting, given his padawan's description.  As the shuttle-pod nestled up to the platform and docked, he slowly pulled himself to his feet.  The Jedi fleetingly hoped, as his apprentice steadied him, that he didn't look like he felt; he felt as if he'd aged a hundred years in the span of a few hours, every joint and muscle protesting horribly as they made their way from the shuttle out towards the waiting skip-ray.

                Slowly they made it across the landing platform and into the ship; Obi-Wan gritting his teeth and stubbornly placing one foot in front of the other.  There was a single sleeping area aboard the vessel; Anakin carefully helped him to lie down on the small sleep couch and covered him with the lone blanket available, promising to get them to Coruscant quickly.

                Obi-Wan nodded a little, closing his eyes almost immediately, the efforts of getting him from one ship to the other having tired him.  It wasn't long before he felt the vibrations of the ship's engine; this was hardly a luxury ship and she felt like it.  His thoughts became hazy despite his best efforts to focus, fever and exhaustion combining to muddle his mind.  _Something...  Obi-Wan blinked a little; feeling as though something was slipping from his grasp but he wasn't sure exactly what it was…  Belatedly he realized that his calm center, the one place he might have fled to try to fight, seemed to be just beyond his reach as he succumbed to his body's demands to be unaware and drifted into the beckoning darkness._

                In the cockpit, Anakin ran the fastest preflight routine he'd ever made, preparing the ship for take-off.  He kept a tight focus on his master; he felt Obi-Wan's slide toward unconsciousness and his throat tightened anxiously.  _Stay with me, Master.  He thought desperately as he received the clearance for takeoff and guided the vessel quickly into Aure IV's atmosphere._

                As the skip-ray climbed into the Aurean sky, Anakin quickly scanned over the communication unit.  Like much of the ship, it was a little on the disused, possibly abused side but looked workable enough; the skip-ray was all Anakin had been able to afford with the amount of credits he'd had on hand.  He had to get a message through to the Council, but it was possible that they were being tracked, traced or both.  If someone wanted his master dead that badly, it was very conceivable that they were _waiting for such a transmission to be made.  Anakin thought a moment.  He needed something unexpected, secured and reliable…_

                _Padmé.  I'll tell Padmé.  The thought came to him as naturally as breathing and Anakin quickly moved to bring the communications unit to life, examining its cryptology systems.  The Naboo senator's personal codes were one of several things Padmé had committed to him after their wedding and now Anakin was glad that he'd taken the time to memorize them._

                Fiddling with a pair of circuits, he managed to bring the scrambler unit online and he quickly established a secure link to the Hall of Naboo on Coruscant.  Slapping another switch he brought the holocam unit to life.  Time was of the essence, so he knew he could not wait for an acknowledgement by receiver code and he quickly keyed in a timestamp.  Clearing his throat lightly as the ship entered the blackness of space, he began to speak.

                "Padmé."

++++++

                Padmé slipped into the small closed-circuit room that received all secure transmissions from the main communications center and keyed in her personal code.  Voiceprint and retina scan confirmed her identity and a moment later a small holo-image was displayed.

                "Ani…" She breathed out as the image of her husband flickered into life before her, even though this was a send-only message and he could not hear her.

                "_Padmé."  His voice and expression were strained and she instantly knew something was wrong.  She checked the timestamp on the message; nearly an hour ago.  How had they missed this transmission?  "__I'm sending this coded because I don't know if we're being traced.  I need you to take a message to the Council and to the Chancellor.  We're just leaving Aure Four…our mission to Uleare has been sabotaged.  Tell the Council that Master Obi-Wan has been poisoned and we're on our way back to Coruscant.  Tell them to have a healer meet us on the platform…He's…" Anakin swallowed hard.  "__He's in bad shape, Padmé…really sick.  I have to go; I'm about to make the jump to lightspeed.  I'll see you soon."_

                The transmission flickered out, and Padmé stood still a moment in shock.  Master Kenobi, poisoned? Oh, gods no…  Erasing the memory crystal that contained the message, Padmé gathered up her things and rushed from the room.

                "Sabé!" She called out and the handmaiden appeared from seemingly nowhere.  "I need a transport; we _have to go to the Jedi Temple.  Hurry!"_

++++++

                "The battle is joined."

                Mace Windu's voice, as serious as ever, penetrated the relative quiet of the Council chamber.

                "Hmm…" Yoda nodded once, his vision not totally faded from his memory, knowing that their next test would be on those bloody fields.  "Informed us, the Chancellor did, a distress signal from Varix received has been.  Invaded by the Separatists they are."  The Jedi Master's voice was as heavy as his expression; the suffering he had been made aware of by the Force was now a fact and the deadly ground had finally given up a name.

                "Varix?" Master Adi Gallia steepled her fingers and drew her features into a mild frown. "Hardly a Core World of import…what does the Coalition have to gain by striking there first?"

                "Resources." Even Piell spoke next, his voice grave.  "Varix is a fairly simple world, easily controlled and rich in resources.  The Coalition knows that it will not long survive with battledroids at the heart of its armies; the Varixians will be ripe targets for forced conscription."

                "Sense this I do." Yoda agreed with a small tap of his gimer stick.  "A foothold only Varix is, but allow their destruction we cannot.  Sending a task force, the Chancellor is."

                "And if we are being drawn into the battle as we were at Geonosis?" Depa Billaba was next to speak, her voice soft but with an edge of concern that echoed that of the other masters present.  "We must choose wisely who goes with that taskforce.  Dooku's loss to the Dark Side means his intentions are clear; darkness always seeks to swallow light.  We must know _exactly what his happening on Varix if the battle there is to be won."_

                Billaba's meaning was crystal-clear; the Council had long been concerned with their diminished ability to see into the Force, an ability that was critical if they were to not only to aid the Republic in this burgeoning war but if they were simply to _survive as an Order.  Too many Jedi already had been slain as the darkness rose; Geonosis had taken a terrible toll._

                "Correct you are." Yoda affirmed.  "Cautious and wise we must be if see this through we will.  What say you?"  The question was directed at Ki-Adi-Mundi, along with an expression that prompted a response.

                "I suggest that all field teams that have not already been called in should be…and furthermore I suggest that a single Council member and a Knight be dispatched to Varix.  Intelligence is our aim and two might secure that more quickly and easily than a larger team.  They can act as advisors to the taskforce as well; the team sent should be well-versed in tactics and strategy."

                "Agree with you I do." Yoda nodded, casting his glance to the others, awaiting further opinions to be expressed.  And they were; the manner of the Council was to come to as much of a consensus as possible regarding the will of the Force, each of the members listening to its prompting within and speaking what they heard along with their opinions of what should be done in response to those messages.

                "It seems prudent." Adi offered, making a sweeping sort of gesture with one hand.  "Our numbers are such that we must pick our battles wisely.  But we must know what is happening on the front that has been presented to us."

                "Send who will we?" Yaddle inquired softly.  She was not the most vocal of the Council, but when she spoke it was usually to the point.

                "Dangerous this assignment will be." Yoda stressed as he looked at his fellow Jedi. "Use caution we must, for a servant of darkness Dooku has become.  Take them he will if an opportunity he receives."

                It was a sad admission, one they had not wanted to believe in, that the former Jedi was lost to them, governed by the Dark Side but it was indisputable after Geonosis.  That Dooku had practically single-handedly torn the Republic in two in forming this separatist force was bad enough…that he had betrayed and killed many Jedi in the process was nearly unfathomable.  That he was using his training to destroy a world was unbearable.

                "I think that—" Mace Windu had begun to speak, when the door opened abruptly and a young page, an Initiate, hurried into their midst—followed by Senator Amidala.  "Zaren?" Windu's question went to the page first, although his gaze was fully set upon Padmé Amidala and her determined expression.

                "Master, forgive the interruption, but the Senator says she has an important message for the Council…about Uleare."

                Yoda's decision to dispatch Kenobi and Skywalker to the Uleare moons had gone undisputed by the other Council members as diminutive Jedi master had predicted; despite the current stresses that faced them, all had wanted an answer to the deaths of Master Varou and her padawan-learner and had conceded that while the two recovering Jedi were at something of a disadvantage physically, Obi-Wan Kenobi was an astute Knight and would pursue the investigation with an eye to detail.

                However, involvement from the outside—and in particular this involvement by the Senator from Naboo—was unexpected.  Yoda regarded the senator for a long moment before nodding in her direction.

                "Speak she must, go now you can, Zaren."

                "Yes, Master."  Zaren bowed deferentially and made his escape, leaving Padmé standing in the midst of the meeting she had gate-crashed.  For a moment there was silence; Padmé suddenly understood why Ani sometimes felt nervous standing before them all.  She cleared her throat lightly after a time, however and focused her attention on Masters Yoda and Windu, as she knew them the best of all the Council.

                "Information about Uleare, you say?" Yoda prompted a little, leaning forward in his seat, his hands crossed over the ever-present gimer stick.

                "Yes." Padmé finally found her voice, and pressed on with her mission.  "I received a coded transmission from Anakin Skywalker; it was sent almost two hours ago now, but I only received it a short while before coming here.  He requested that I come to inform you that their mission to Uleare has been compromised and that Master Kenobi has been…attacked.  He—"

                "Attacked?" Mace Windu leaned forward now, his expression reflective of the concern that rippled through the rest of the Council.

                "Yes…Anakin believes it to be a toxin of some sort; they are on their way back to Coruscant from Aure IV and requested that a healer meet them on the landing platform when they arrive."

                There.  The message had been delivered.  So why was she trembling?

                "Why did he not contact us directly?" Windu asked, and Padmé met his gaze.

                "He said he thought they might be under a trace."

                "Sense I do that trustworthy young Skywalker considers you to be." Yoda confirmed, nodding a little.  "Safe with you his message would be so trust you with it he did."

                "This is most unfortunate." Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke up, and there was a compassionate note to his voice.  "We thank you for your assistance, Senator."

                It had a note of dismissal in it, but Padmé remained standing in the center of that circle.  They might be able to order Anakin to leave but she was not a Jedi, and they could not command her in the same way.

                "Honorable masters…" She said, using their titles for diplomacy's sake.  "I request that I be there to meet them with you."

                "Unusual this is." Yoda said at length, and the green-skinned master regarded her curiously.  "But no harm in it I see.  Granted this is."

                "Thank you, Master Yoda." Padmé answered sincerely.

                "Have Zaren take you to the gardens; we will send for you when they are on approach." Mace Windu said now, and the young senator nodded, acquiescing to the end of the discussion since they were giving her what she'd asked for.  She withdrew to speak with the Initiate who still waited outside the door for her, and Mace looked down at Yoda.

                "Disturbing this is." Yoda commented quietly.  "Look into it we must; for more than meets the eye I sense."

                "And Varix?" Adi Gallia spoke up.  "What is to be done?"

                The venerable Jedi Master closed his eyes, seeking, listening, and desperately trying to divine what action should be taken.  Finally he opened them and fixed them on Adi herself.

                "Go to Varix you must, Master Gallia.  A Knight of your choosing you will take.  Seek the answers we must have and report to us you must."

                Adi was on her feet instantly; she was not one for wasting much time and even if the Council had other matters to discuss, they could do so easily enough without her presence.

                "I'll take Master Unduli with me.  Her intelligence missions are always good, and her instincts are sharp." Adi informed them.  "And…should it come to being in the thick of battle, her 'saber skills are exceptional."

                "Very good." Mace nodded in approval; Luminara Unduli was one of the most talented Jedi in the Order.  "May the Force be with you."

                As Master Gallia swept from the Council chamber, her robe trailing gracefully around her ankles, Yoda sighed heavily, the weight of the galaxy pressing on his 800-year old spirit.

                "The Force, with us _all, may it be."_


	13. A Journey Home

At last! The muse cooperated enough to offer up Chapter 13.  My apologies; between her stubbornness and Real Life, I have been a bit detained.  *starting 14 now* Enjoy!

= Thoughts transmitted through the master/apprentice bond. 

THIRTEEN

                "_Uhnn…"_

                The low moan drew Anakin's attention and he crossed over to his master's side.  For a brief moment, before consciousness fully returned to the Jedi, the shields that had masked the hurting were dropped and Anakin fairly gasped at the amount of pain his master was enduring.  Another soft groan followed and the apprentice laid a comforting hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

                "Sshh, Master…it's okay.  We're almost home now."  Even before Obi-Wan opened his eyes, Anakin could feel him struggle to reestablish the shields that had fallen away.  Felt that it _was a struggle, and he frowned a little.  He'd never known Master Obi-Wan to be anything but strong in the Force.  Squeezing lightly at Obi-Wan's shoulder, Anakin sought to lend his master some strength through the training bond, shoring up Obi-Wan's fragile center much as his master used to do for him when he was first learning to meditate.  Eagerly Obi-Wan grasped at the calm, the peace that was a balm even as his body burned painfully, feverishly.  "That's it, Master…" Anakin encouraged, startled at how weak his master suddenly seemed._

                Blue-grey eyes flickered open hesitantly and they were glassy, bright with fever.  But they were focused, and Obi-Wan moved his left hand slowly to cover Anakin's hand resting on his right shoulder.

                "_Thank you." He whispered, blinking a little._

                "It's okay…it's okay, Master." Anakin found himself repeating, choking back the sudden lump that rose in his throat.  The poison was robbing him of his master a bit at a time, and he felt helpless to stop it from happening.  Efforts to ease Obi-Wan's suffering or to help him enter a healing trance had met with failure, as if something were preventing him from doing so, although Anakin didn't know what it could be.  It certainly wasn't Obi-Wan himself, nor was it a fault of the training bond that he could discern and he was unaware of any outside influence that might hinder such aid either.  Yet it was like he was being held captive while a thief was stealing from him…stealing his master's life.  _Just like on Tatooine…just like when Mom... Anakin gulped air, his heart freezing in his chest at the very thought of losing Obi-Wan so…so…__needlessly._

                "_Anakin…" Obi-Wan murmured again, moving his thumb along the back of his padawan's hand briefly as he clasped it at his shoulder.  "__Don't…don't be afraid."_

                Anakin gazed down at his desperately ill master, shocked into silence.  _He's hurting like that and he's__ comforting me?  Obi-Wan touched the bond a little, like soft fingertips ruffling Anakin's hair, a gesture the Knight had not made since the padawan had been much younger and Anakin blinked back unexpected tears.  "__Fear…fear is of…the dark side, Anakin…don't…" Speaking was costing Obi-Wan, and Anakin shook his head a little, savagely trying to push back the panic that was indeed rising inside him like a flood._

                "Sshh, Master." He soothed again, finding his voice and doing his best to release his fear into the Force.  "Save your strength.  You need to concentrate on getting better."  _I am not going to let you die, I swear it. Anakin thought fiercely, his eyes settling into an expression of determination.  The thief was __not going to win._

                Obi-Wan closed his eyes, too sick and too weak to argue that he held no false confidence about his condition; he knew he was dying.  But he could not deny his padawan's hopes; he would not give up the fight…_not just yet.  From somewhere within he dredged up a reserve of his own resolve and clung to it, just as he was clinging to the pale shadow of his calm center.  __Maybe…maybe if we can just get back to the __Temple__ it will be all right, like Anakin said.  Perhaps it was a futile hope but it was the only one he had and so he wrapped his mind around it as tightly as he could._

                The hyperspace beacon went off; its noisy signal informing them that they'd reached their destination.  Anakin straightened away from his master's side, knowing that he had to get into the cockpit. "I'll be right back, Master."

                A hope sprang into Anakin's heart as he hurried to the cockpit and brought the skip-ray out of hyperspace.  Coruscant.  In all its brightly-lit, frenetic glory.  _We made it._

                They were home.

++++++

                It was an odd little assemblage waiting on the landing platform near the Healing Ward of the Jedi Temple as the small Aurean craft descended gracefully, a flawless landing.  Masters Windu and Yoda were present, as well as Healers Obuk and Jeriya, the young page Zaren, Padmé Amidala…and Supreme Chancellor Palpatine.  At Senator Amidala's request, Zaren had been dispatched to the Chancellor to deliver Anakin's message, and in an unexpected response Palpatine had returned with the boy to meet the arriving ship with the rest of them.

                It was a few moments before the main hatch of the little skip-ray opened up and the ramp descended.  And it was a moment longer before Anakin appeared at the head of the ramp, all but bearing Obi-Wan up in his arms, the Jedi close to collapse.

                "Master Kenobi!" Padmé couldn't contain a gasp of dismay at the appearance of her friend.  She started toward the ramp but Yoda was quicker, raising his hand and lifting Obi-Wan gently with the Force.  Anakin followed along at his master's side as Yoda removed the poisoned Knight from the ship in this manner, toward the two healers who waited with a repulsor unit between them.  Upon reaching them, Anakin handed over a small vial, containing a sample of the water from the carafe, explaining that he believed it to contain the agent that was afflicting his master.

                For his own part, Obi-Wan was barely aware of his surroundings, anchored to consciousness by a slender thread.  He felt himself being lifted from his feet with all the care one might give a fragile piece of art but it was still all he could do not to cry out in pain.  There were hushed voices all around him; Anakin of course, Master Windu…Master Yoda?  He was surprised at that.  He felt himself being laid very carefully on something soft but the motion still hurt enough that he couldn't contain the plaintive moan that slipped out.  _Sorry I am Obi-Wan…mean to harm you I did not.  He was vaguely aware of Yoda's apology and then there was a hand on his forehead, a warm Force-touch…a healer…Obuk maybe?  In his semi-conscious, hazy state, he was having trouble discerning individual Force-signatures and he was just…so…tired…_

                "Rest easy, Obi-Wan."  The healer's kindly voice came to him, a voice that Obi-Wan had known since his youngest days in the crèche.  "Just lie still."  There was a small hum, the repulsor unit being directed away from the skip-ray, toward the Temple.  The steady low sound was almost hypnotic in itself; Obi-Wan felt himself begin to drift despite the unrelenting ache within.  The buzz of conversation around him faded away and he allowed his awareness to fade with it, his only companion that slender thread, like spun silver, attaching him to the moment…to the Force.

                "…couldn't leave him at the hands of strangers in some med unit on Aure.  We had to come back." Anakin was saying, looking down on the motionless form of his master as they moved from the landing platform into the cool halls of the Temple.  He could feel his master's lifeforce, dimmed but stubbornly glowing in the Force, even though he was also aware of Obi-Wan's diminished state of consciousness.  Impulsively he reached out a hand and touched his master's arm; there was no response.  A similar touch against the bond produced the same results; Obi-Wan was oblivious.  He looked to Obuk now, the light of desperation in his eyes.  "You _have to help him."_

                "Look after your master now, the healers will.  With us you must come, Padawan." Yoda stated firmly, despite the troubled expression that crossed the young apprentice's features.

                "But…I can't just leave him…" Anakin stammered, stunned even as Master Windu placed a hand on his shoulder, gently but firmly steering him away from the repulsor unit and toward the lift.  "Wait!"

                "No more argument must you make.  Discuss this with you in detail we will.  Then return you to your master we can." Yoda insisted, and Anakin looked fleetingly toward Padmé.

                "I'll stay, Anakin." She answered immediately.  "If there's anything, I'll…" The senator thought for a moment, knowing that she didn't particularly have free rein in the Temple, senator or not.  "I'll send word with Zaren here.  If that's all right with you, Master Yoda?"

                "Suggested well that is; allow it we will."

                Anakin watched a desperate moment longer as his wife and the young page trailed after the healers who were rapidly bearing his master away toward the Healing Ward, before turning toward the two Council Jedi and Chancellor Palpatine.

                "Masters…" Palpatine intoned heavily, his expression crestfallen.  "It is distressing to see such dire misfortune befall Master Kenobi; he has served the Republic most commendably during these tragic times.  Please…do send updates on Master Kenobi's condition, I would be most grateful.  But while my hope is with you for his recovery, the matter on Varix is urgent."

                "We will keep you informed, Chancellor." Mace agreed, inclining his head slightly.

                "Thank you…for your concern." Anakin spoke up now, his expression displaying genuine gratitude.  Palpatine smiled thinly; when the time was right the boy would be a great asset indeed.  "I'm sure my Master would thank you as well."

                "My heartfelt wish is for his swift return to us." Palpatine said smoothly, fixing Anakin with a look and then the other two Jedi in turn.  "However I must attend to duty…Varix cannot wait much longer."

                "Sent a team to Varix already we have…meet your troops there they will." Yoda informed him with a small rap of his gimer stick.

                _Troops? Anakin wondered thoughtfully.  __Wonder what we missed…_

                "Their assistance will be invaluable, I am sure." Palpatine inclined his head just slightly, an acknowledgement.  "I will have my command staff report to them at once."  A polite farewell followed and then the Chancellor was striding away from them, back toward the landing platform.  Anakin had not noticed the Chancellor's private air-car docked nearby at all, but then again his concentration had been solely on getting Obi-Wan into the Temple, into the hands of the healers.

                "Varix?" He inquired, curious in spite of his desire to remain at his master's side.

                "Speak of that with you as well, we will." Yoda craned his neck to gaze up at the tall human boy at his side.  "Come…the sooner that over this is, the sooner that return to the Ward you can."

                There was no faulting that logic; that was certain.  Anakin glanced back over his shoulder as he followed the two Jedi masters toward the lift; Obi-Wan and the healers were long out of sight now, but he reached out into the Force.  I will come back as soon as I can, Master.

++++++

                The smile that graced his features was laced with a malice that only those who truly knew him for what he was could see.  Palpatine watched the surrounding air-lanes idly; his air-car being handled by one of his personal guards.

As delivered by Padmé Amidala via the young messenger from the Jedi Temple, the news regarding Obi-Wan Kenobi had been rather welcome, confirmation that he had chosen his assassin well.  Palpatine had endeavored to appear suitably distressed over this "turn of events" that had taken place.  _Such a tragedy...Master Kenobi is one of the noblest Knights in the Order…his loss would be most difficult…  Words politely spoken…ones that meant nothing._

                A 'noble Knight' who was currently still in charge of Palpatine's most coveted and watched treasure, however short a time may be left to them now.  Surely the boy would not refuse a place at his side given the right promptings and with Obi-Wan Kenobi swept permanently out of the way, those promptings should not be difficult to suggest.

                For now, he must be patient.

                He'd insisted on being present at the return of the two Jedi, ostensibly to lend his support to the Order during this time of difficulty; only he knew it was to see for himself the revenge he was beginning to exact and to relish it.  Savor it.  Taste it like sweet honey.  For this was only the beginning.

                Varix was its own unique situation; Dooku had the planet well in hand now, and there was precious little the Jedi could do about that; the staged battle would be fought, Varix would be "liberated" and a peace-keeping force of clones left in place to see to it that the unsuspecting Varixians remained gratefully in their service.  The Senate and the Jedi would be none the wiser and first steps toward ordering the universe would be in place.

                The fact that the Jedi Council had already dispatched two of their own to Varix was another pleasure in itself.  _So much the better... Palpatine had thought even as he had thanked Yoda aloud.  __The first Knights to fall in the first battle of the new campaign.  Speaking a gracious and polite leave-taking, he had then parted from their company back out to the landing platform, to return to the Galactic Senate buildings.  Quite frankly it was a relief; rubbing shoulders with all that self-righteousness was annoying but for the moment still necessary to his designs.  He had no illusions about his political maneuvering; unlike Count Dooku, who was an idealist of sorts, Palpatine was purely relishing the power that darkness brought him.  It was power that the Jedi could never comprehend even if they'd wanted to, power that would ultimately order the galaxy after his own image._

                The air-car delivered him to his destination, his official offices in the Senate buildings, and with all the dignity of a royal personage, Palpatine, Supreme Chancellor of the Republic, strode into his center of power to issue the order…_attack the Separatists on Varix._

++++++

                Anakin followed silently after the two Jedi Masters, hands clasped behind his back, his body present but his mind still firmly in the Healing Ward.  What was happening to his master now?  Would the healers be able to identify the toxin that was killing him?  Would they be able to find an antidote?  Perhaps they would be able to detoxify Obi-Wan through their Force abilities…place the poisoned Jedi into a healing trance that would restore him…

                His mind occupied in this manner, Anakin was taken by surprise when he realized that instead of to the Council Chambers, someplace official, or even the meditation gardens, it was to the quarters he shared with Master Obi-Wan that Master Yoda and Master Windu were taking him.

                "Master Yoda?" The young Jedi inquired curiously, and it earned him a short rap across the shoulder with the gimer stick; Yoda had favored a hover-chair on the longer trek back to the residential portion of the Temple in order to keep up with Mace and Anakin's longer strides.

                "Attention to your surroundings you must pay, or lost you will become.  Good for a Jedi that is not."

                "No, Master, it's not." Anakin agreed half-heartedly, wishing fleetingly that this conversation could take place at another time.  He pressed the palm-lock to gain them admittance, and preceded the two Masters within.

                "Understand I do," Yoda said as he lowered the hover-chair and made his way further into the common area.  "That upset over Obi-Wan's illness you are."  The small Jedi's voice had softened, and wise eyes reflected the very understanding that he spoke of.  "Share your concern I do, Padawan Skywalker and keep you long we will not.  However speak to you without distraction we must."

                Anakin sat down on the conforming couch slowly, pulling his robe around himself as if it would shield him from the hurts of the galaxy, his eyes downcast.

                "Yes, Master." He murmured softly.

                "First of all…" Mace prefaced quietly, taking a seat on the other end of the couch, "Tell us exactly what happened aboard the transport…everything, details...anything that might give us a clue as to what happened to your master."

                Anakin nodded, then proceeded to outline everything, calling on the Force to enhance his memory, telling the two Council Jedi about their boarding, about the pleasant surprise at their quarters, about Master Obi-Wan remaining behind in them while he had gone to observe their launch…the children, the sense he'd received about his master's distress, and finding Obi-Wan collapsed within their quarters and how he had come to believe the contents of the glass to have been poisoned.  Yoda and Mace listened intently, interrupting the narrative only occasionally to seek clarification of details.

                "Whoever attacked Master Obi-Wan must have wanted us to fail at Uleare.  It's the only conclusion that makes any sense." Anakin wrapped up, glancing from one Jedi Master to the other.  "Perhaps Master Varou and Padawan Rhe's killer learned of our mission there."

                "Hmm…make assumptions we dare not, but agree with you that in some manner tied to Uleare it is." Yoda nodded thoughtfully as he spoke.  "Risen, another matter has.  Varix in the mid-rim, invaded by the Separatists has been.  Sent Masters Gallia and Unduli we have; awaiting word from them we now are."

                "So it was true…" Anakin said with a small frown.  "There really _was a battle group in the Charmadis Sector."  At Mace Windu's raised eyebrow, Anakin shrugged a little.  "Rumor."_

                "Fact now it is." Yoda confirmed.

                "Chancellor Palpatine is dispatching troops to liberate the planet." Mace interjected, and Anakin looked at the dark-skinned Jedi curiously, his mind quick to grasp the particulars.

                "_Before he receives a preliminary report from Master Gallia?"_

                "The reports from Varix are grave." Mace answered, leaning forward a bit to regard the apprentice.  "The Chancellor felt it best to act quickly and decisively.  And he believes that with the forces he is sending into Varix, the Coalition won't be able to stand against them for long."

                "Makes sense." Anakin said confidently.  "Battle droids are no match for living breathing _trained warriors.  They should have figured that out at Geonosis."_

                "Still, try they will for committed to this course now they are." Yoda gave a small shrug of the shoulders, as if to indicate that the lessons learned or not learned in the Geonosian arena seemed to have little bearing on the course of action the Coalition now pursued.

                "We are pulling in the field teams until we know more of what is happening there." Master Windu said, and Anakin looked at him with a distressed expression.  "What is it, Padawan Skywalker?"

                "I wanted to ask the Council's permission to pursue the Uleare investigation.  I want to find the one who did this to my Master."

                It was about as bluntly as Anakin could put it, and he watched the two masters carefully as they traded glances, their expressions solemn.

                "Decide that later we can." Yoda finally spoke, although to Anakin's way of thinking it sounded an awful lot like _no already.  "For now, see to your master you must.  Speak more of this we will."_

                "And we will." Windu confirmed as he rose, looking down at the still-seated padawan as he spoke.  "We've already considered the idea that you would request this assignment.  But until we know more about Varix and what the Coalition's next move is, we feel that it is important to have as many Jedi available as possible.  We may be faced with any number of battles depending on how quickly the battlefront spreads."

                Anakin hunched his shoulders a little.  The battle on Geonosis had been painful enough; he couldn't imagine being scattered to the edges of the galaxy in dozens of battles and the sensation that such a thought invoked made him shiver a little.

                "Return to the Healers now you should, Padawan." Yoda said encouragingly.  "Find you later to talk further we will."  So saying, the diminutive Jedi made his way back to the hover-chair and settled into it.  Still seated, Anakin inclined his head respectfully to the two Masters as they exited his quarters.  For a moment longer he remained there, taking in all that the two elder Jedi had spoken of to him and trying to quell the frustration that was beginning to well up within.  _Someone had wanted his master dead.  That someone should be made to give account for innocent Jedi blood.  Dooku had escaped his reckoning on Geonosis; that was bad enough.  But this assassin must __not evade the justice that was owed him.  Anakin narrowed his eyes a little, a familiar anger rising to the front, anger that he knew he must squash by releasing it into the Force._

                Only this time, with his master's life hanging in the balance, he caressed it once with his mind and allowed himself to think of the word _revenge before putting it away from himself, releasing the frustrations as best he could into the Force.  He had already succumbed to it once, on Tatooine. He must __not allow it to take him again._

                Rising quickly, he cast aside his troubled thoughts and centered himself on the moment.  He had to get back to the Healing Ward, and find out what was happening with Master Obi-Wan.  But somewhere in the back of his mind, the word whispered like a voice on the wind, _revenge._

++++++

                Padmé paced a little, marking off the distance from one side of the small waiting area to the other.  It wasn't so much that she was impatient or restless; her experiences as Naboo's queen and now as its Senator, had taught her the invaluable art of waiting.  It was more that the small cubby made her feel almost…caged in, trapped in a surreal existence.  Obi-Wan Kenobi was tied to Naboo by circumstance as surely as she was tied to it by blood; Qui-Gon's death all those years ago had burned Theed into his soul.  Yet while Master Kenobi had never returned to her homeworld and carried an inherent distrust of all things political, he had never been anything but patient and kind to her, and she considered him to be a friend indeed.

                Death was stalking her friend.

                It had been disconcerting to see the Jedi Knight so ill; while Jedi weren't invincible, they were supposed to be…well…invincible.  As she had kept pace with the repulsor unit that carried Obi-Wan to the Ward, she had watched his drawn, pale features, anxiously looking for the strong Jedi who had helped rescue her world and her life but he had not moved, not even so much as opened his eyes.  It was then that she realized how serious his condition was.  This was a fight, no doubt about it and so far…so far it was a fight the Jedi was not winning.

                There was movement at the small entrance and Padmé looked up to see Jeriya there.  The slender Healer inclined her head graciously and came further into the little room as the Senator ceased pacing and sat down.

                "How is he?" Padmé kept her voice as controlled as possible; she needed to be clear-headed to receive the information and pass it onto Anakin when he arrived.

                "Healer Obuk is still with him, Senator." Jeriya hesitated a little.  "He's very weak; the toxin is rather...virulent."

                Padmé nodded silently; there were simply no words to describe the heaviness that filled her.  While it was true that they hadn't lost Obi-Wan _yet, the possibility struck her forcefully and her first thought was the sadness of loss.  Her second thought was of Anakin._

                _Master Obi-Wan is like a father to me._

                Anakin's words echoed back to her mind, and she considered them carefully.  She had known both of her own parents; her family still lived in the lake country of her home continent on Naboo.  Her family was warm and comfortable, a safe haven even now, as a Galactic Senator who spent a great deal of her time thousands of light years away from home.  Anakin's sense of family was torn.  For his first nine years he had known only Shmi, his beloved and kindly mother, ripped from his world first by separation to pursue his dreams of becoming Jedi and then by the violence of the Tusken Raiders on Tatooine.

                A violence that he had met with violence, a ripple of darkness and vengeance that the Jedi were supposed to be…what?  Immune to?  Something like that…but Anakin hadn't been.  How would he now handle this, the slow tearing away of the only other semblance of family he had developed in the past ten years?  Padmé unconsciously bit her lower lip, knowing that her husband was a young man of deep and uncomplicated emotions, emotions that he struggled to master rather than be mastered _by.  Sometimes he was successful and sometimes…well sometimes he wasn't.  She could only imagine how she would feel in his place, and she swallowed a little._

                "What does the Master Healer say so far?" Padmé found herself asking, feeling almost like the question was being asked outside of herself and that she was merely a spectator watching herself ask it.

                "Yes, what does Healer Obuk say, Jeriya?"

                Anakin stood framed in the doorway, looking at Jeriya expectantly, and waiting for the gentle Healer to tell him what was going on with his master.  Padmé looked up at him quietly, her expression reflecting her genuine concern for both him and Master Obi-Wan, but she said nothing.

                "We're still not sure what we're dealing with, Anakin."  Jeriya's voice was quiet, calming; she was used to dealing with the upsets of worried friends and family.  "Teija is doing the work on the sample you brought in but he says he's never seen anything like it before, and so far there is no matching record in the medical archives."

                Anakin nodded once, glancing aside and taking in the information silently.  After a moment he looked back to the slender young Healer whose compassionate eyes had never left his face.

                "Can we…can I see him?"

                "Master Obuk is still with him, Anakin…perhaps a bit later."  Jeriya motioned for him to come and sit.  "He might be a little while with your master yet."

                Anakin looked around the cramped surroundings of the small waiting area, instinctively knowing that this would be his home for the next hours.  He would not leave his master's side unless there was some chance of getting to Obi-Wan's attempted killer.  As the Council had not given him leave to pursue that yet, he knew that here was where he must be.  Slowly he sat down to wait—as long as he must—to see his master, to be at Obi-Wan's side in this desperate fight.  If he must leave to pursue the enemy of his master's life, he wanted Obi-Wan to be assured of his intentions first.

                Jeriya rose now, giving Anakin a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.  "I'd better go see to helping Master Obuk.  I'll be back soon, I'm sure."  With that she passed gracefully from the room and out of sight.  Anakin glanced anxiously at Padmé, and his secret treasure reached over and clasped his hand tightly, silently, lending him her support and love.

                _Hold on Master Obi-Wan…Force's sake…please hold on._


	14. A Life In The Balance

After numerous cups of coffee, several viewings of TPM and ROTJ, many hours of staring at the computer screen...lol the muse finally woke up.  :D  Thank you all for stickin' with it….more coming soon!

= Thoughts transmitted through the master/apprentice bond. 

FOURTEEN

                It was nearly another hour and a half later before there was any further movement in the tiny room.  It was growing late; the setting sun throwing longer shadows across the floor from a nearby transparisteel window.  Padmé had curled up into one of the larger chairs and was dozing; Anakin was pacing as if he would put the proverbial hole in the floor with his quick, anxious strides.

                When both Jeriya _and Obuk slipped into the room, the young Jedi stopped so abruptly that he nearly lost his balance, turning to face them expectantly.  Silently Obuk motioned for the apprentice to take a seat, and Anakin complied, pausing just long enough to awaken Padmé before settling down in the chair next to her._

                "What's happening to my Master?" Anakin spoke first, direct and to the point.  "Will he be all right?"

                "Padawan Skywalker…" Obuk held up a calming hand before saying more.  "He's sleeping right now and somewhat stable for the time being."

                "Time being?" Anakin could not quite keep the slight waver from his voice.

                "The toxin in Obi-Wan's system is a very cleverly engineered virus.  It matches nothing we have on file.  But what we've been able to discover so far is that it appears to be specifically engineered to adapt to the host at the genetic level.  So specifically in fact that to give the same virus to another person would be virtually harmless."

                "A perfect assassination weapon."

                "Almost.  Not quite.  In Obi-Wan's case, it looks like there was an error or an omitted element in the engineering process; it hasn't totally adapted to his genetic structure.  And I believe that is the sole reason he is still alive; his natural defenses have actually been holding the toxin _somewhat at bay.  Otherwise…I don't think you would have ever gotten him back to Coruscant alive."_

                Anakin's eyes widened a little as he realized just how lucky they'd gotten.

                "So they made a mistake.  What does that mean for Master Obi-Wan?" The young Jedi leaned forward eagerly now, grasping whatever thread of hope he could find.  Obuk sighed softly, shook his head a little.

                "I'm not sure it's a big enough mistake.  As part of its design, it appears that this toxin is incredibly resistant to Force-healing or intervention.  Which leaves us with the sole option of developing an anti-toxin."

                "So it's a race against time." Padmé said astutely, succinctly, a statement not a question.  Obuk nodded.

                "How much time?" Anakin wanted to know, looking from one healer to the other. Jeriya shook her head a little bit.

                "We don't know." She said softly, speaking for the first time since she'd followed her former master back into the room.  "The fact that it was designed to resist Force-healing further suggests it was created specifically for use against your master.  That, and…" She trailed off suddenly, glancing down at folded hands, aware of Obuk's sharp look in her direction.

                "And…what?" Anakin felt his throat tighten.  "What is it, Master Obuk?  _Tell me."_

                The Master Healer exhaled slowly, feeling Jeriya's remorse but it was too late now to keep anything back.

                "The toxin is specifically targeting the midichlorians in Obi-Wan's system.  It is systematically destroying them.  If we cannot find a way to halt that destruction…"  The rest did not need to be spoken aloud.  Without the midichlorians, the Jedi's life would cease to exist.

                Anakin swallowed hard.  _Force no…please no._

                "Can…I...Can I see him?" His voice shook a bit despite his best efforts to keep it under control.

                "Yes.  He's sleeping." Obuk reminded gently, and Anakin nodded but was relieved just to be able to leave the cramped confines of the little waiting cubby and be near his master.  Jeriya rose now and motioned for the apprentice to follow after her, and he wasted no time in getting to his feet and hurrying alongside her.

                Padmé watched Anakin and Jeriya leave, and then she fixed Obuk with a very pointed gaze.

                "Master Healer, what are Master Kenobi's prospects?  Do you think you will be able to find an antidote in time?" Gazing intently at the Healer, Padmé waited patiently.

                "Force willing..." Obuk replied gently, his own gaze straying toward the doorway that the two young Jedi had disappeared through.  "But I would be lying if I told you that Obi-Wan's chances were better than forty percent right now." He looked back toward Padmé, his eyes distressed.  "There's already been a great deal of damage done to his midichlorian levels.  Eventually, if we cannot halt the toxin's progression, he'll suffer systemic organ damage, coma…and death." Obuk's voice dropped a notch.  "And that's _after he's been blinded."_

                "Blinded?" Padmé echoed.  "Master Kenobi is losing his sight?"

                "No." Obuk replied sadly, painfully.  "He's losing the Force."

++++++

                "What is your report, Lord Tyranus?"

                On the other end of the communication, Count Dooku smiled thinly, triumphantly.

                "The first conscripts from Varix have been sent to Uleare, Master.  The more skilled among them will be sent on to Jastas Prime to aid the construction of the weapon."  'The weapon,' of course, referring to the Death Star project concealed in Jastas' fairly unpopulated, backwater system.

                "Good.  News of the battle?" Palpatine prompted further.

                "It is going as planned.  Your clone troops arrived a few hours ago and are already deploying; it will just be a matter of time before the capitol is 'liberated'."

                "And the Jedi?"

                "They arrived just before your battlegroup did; I will see to them." Dooku reassured his master smoothly.  His expression became one of curiosity, displayed even through his holographic image.  "What is the situation in the Senate, Master?"

                Dooku was treated to one of his master's most chilling self-satisfied smiles.

The current restlessness in the Senate was quite simply luscious and Palpatine intended to use it to his fullest advantage.  He relished the subversion of the Jedi Order's reputation that was happening behind the scenes, the current debates over the Malastare Restriction Measure spreading like wildfire through the ranks of the senators.  It was at such a place now where he didn't even need to fuel the discord over the issue himself any longer; the senators were quite capable of furthering the damage on their own.

"It won't be long now, before the Jedi find their hands tied in Senate matters.  Once those controls are in place, it will be a simple thing to completely dismantle the Order and destroy them."

Palpatine's words were cold, full of malice, and yet a perverse joy.  It was not a joy that Dooku shared completely, although he still agreed that the time to do away with the Jedi had come.

"I will report to you again when the clones have secured the planet, Master."

"You have done well, Tyranus."  There was no further word; the holograph blinked out completely.

Everything was proceeding as it had been designed.

++++++

                Anakin sat quietly next to his master, smothering a yawn despite the early hour.  The room was lit by a soft, single glow-rod that did little more than disperse the gathered shadows of night; although it was not yet near the mid-eve hour, the sun had set some few hours ago and the darkness outside winked with the million sparkles of Coruscant's cityscape.  Without looking, he roughly guessed it to be close to the nine-hour, and he reached up to knead the back of his neck.

                "You should eat something." Jeriya's soft voice prompted the apprentice to look up, and he gave her a small, wan smile.

                "Later, maybe.  He shouldn't be alone when he wakes up." Anakin replied just as softly, careful not to disturb Obi-Wan.

                "He won't wake for awhile, Anakin.  Master Obuk gave him a full dose of ambrisam; that stuff could knock a Wookiee out for a week."

                The young Jedi apprentice looked back to his master now, watching the gentle rise and fall of Obi-Wan's chest as the stricken Jedi slept a drugged, dreamless sleep.  Ambrisam, he knew, was a strong pain-management medication; for Obuk to have treated Obi-Wan with it already spoke volumes about his master's condition.

                "He's in trouble, isn't he?"

                "Master Obuk doesn't want him to suffer."

                "I don't want him to die!" Anakin choked out, his voice still quiet but his defiance quite startling.  "He's not _going to die…I won't let him!"_

                Jeriya knelt beside the chair and looked at her friend; she had known Anakin from his first days at the Temple, befriended him when others had simply feared him, and trusted him to just be a friend in return.  Prophecy or no prophecy, Chosen One or not, Anakin was still human and needed a human touch.  Jeriya had always given that to him, and as he turned his head to gaze down at her now, he could see the curious compassion that always emanated from her eyes.

                "We're doing everything we can, Anakin.  Teija thinks he's onto something that…well if it doesn't stop the progression of the toxin, it may at least slow it, buy us some more time to devise a cure."  She reached over and rested a hand on his forearm.  "But you will do your master no good if you end up in the bed next to him.  You need a break, and to eat.  Come on, I'll send word if there is any change."

                Anakin sighed softly.  Obi-Wan hadn't so much as stirred in the past few hours, so heavy was the drug-induced rest; still, he didn't want to just leave.  Anakin blinked a moment, another thought coming to mind.  _Padmé.  He did check his chrono now; by all the gods, he'd left her out there alone for the last three hours.  If, that is, she was still out there._

                "Pad—Senator Amidala; is she still in the waiting area?"

                "She's the one who sent me in here after you, actually." Jeriya replied quietly.  "I'd have come soon anyway; my rounds would bring me down on this end of the hall but she wanted to speak with you."

                Anakin nodded, and then reached over to the bed, laying his hand over his master's motionless, loosely curled hand.  Touching the bond ever so lightly, he sent a soft reassurance toward Obi-Wan's subconscious.

                "All right. You win. But if _anything changes, you find me, got it?"_

                Reluctantly, yet without waiting for an answer from Jeriya, Anakin slipped from the room.

                Padmé was curled up in the largest repulsor chair in the tiny waiting room; why she hadn't taken a couch where she might have been more comfortable he couldn't guess at.  Her eyes were closed but he could tell she wasn't asleep, and her hair had escaped the confines of the elaborate clips that had held it pinned up, runaway curls spilling down to her shoulders and some of them into her face.

                Silently, he knelt down before the chair, all long limbs but still an easy grace in his motion.  He put up a hand, smoothed back soft curls.  Suddenly mindful of where they were and that _anyone might see or overhear them, he pulled away, but her eyes were opened now and fixed on him, still lovely despite the concern shining out of them._

                "Is he awake yet?" Padmé asked quietly as she straightened up and stretched a little.  Anakin shook his head silently, and a troubled expression crossed his features.

                "He's…they gave Master Obi-Wan something for pain; it's making him sleep." The young Jedi bowed his head a little, swallowing hard.  Padmé glanced up, just past his shoulder and his gaze was drawn to follow as Mace Windu stepped into the room.

                "Any change?" He intoned quietly, and for all Master Windu's sometimes overbearing nature, Anakin could see a deep, genuine concern for Obi-Wan in his expression.  Anakin shook his head a little.

                "Not really.  He's…in a lot of pain."

                "Have faith in the Healers, Padawan Skywalker.  They'll do everything in their power to save your master's life." Mace drew closer and placed a hand at the apprentice's shoulder.  "Trust the Force."  Anakin nodded just a little, knowing Windu was right; he could not—_would not—give up on his master, ever._

                "I just wish I could do something." Never content to simply sit by and watch a thing happen; Anakin's first instinct, as it had been with Master Jinn a decade ago, was to try to help.  Mace drew in a slow breath; the youth's heartfelt desire to aid his master made his next words that much more difficult to speak.

                "The Council has considered your request, Anakin."

                "You're not letting me go, are you?" Anakin knew instinctively what it was before Master Windu even spoke it.  "But what about Master Obi-Wan? If I can find the…Force-forsaken being that did this to him, maybe I will find the cure for it too."

                "Assassins aren't normally in the habit of rescuing their victims." Mace spoke calmly, rationally.  "Quite likely the cure of which you speak doesn't exist.  Yet, anyway." The dark-skinned Jedi nodded back toward the Ward indicating the Healers whom, he was sure, were working to devise an antidote to the poison that held Obi-Wan in its deadly grip.

                "But…" Anakin faltered a little, knowing that it was unlikely he would persuade the Council to reconsider.  His expression darkened a little, a distressed echo of his heart.  "You haven't had to watch him hurt.  I have.  And I can't just…sit there and do nothing while he gets worse!"

                Mace sighed softly as he sat down opposite Obi-Wan's apprentice and the watchful senator from Naboo.

                "I don't like this any more than you do.  I've known Obi-Wan most of his life and I consider him to be a good friend.  I'd take you myself if I thought pursuing this would do him any good.  But the Council has decided, Anakin. Your place is here with your master."

                Anakin watched numbly as the Jedi master rose to his feet, a distressed cast to his fair features, heard Windu's promise to return and check on them, and shook his head in quiet frustration as he turned back toward Padmé, who had remained quiet throughout the exchange.

                "And if I _lose my Master?  Then what?" He murmured to no-one in particular. Padmé could hear the quiet desperation in her husband's voice, and again the thought of his mother's death on Tatooine._

                "I…don't know, Ani." She looked past him toward the hallway beyond which Obi-Wan lay fighting for his life.  "I hope we don't have to find out."

++++++

                The call of the Force came deep in the night; that was nothing new.  Halting steps between the sleep couch and the meditation pad was nothing new either; by now the short little journey was simply instinct.  The urgency that presented itself was not new; the galaxy had been under this burden for some time now.

                What _was new was the overwhelming sense of sorrow that permeated the call, deep and devastating, unlike any sort of summons—even sorrowful summons—received before.  The sorrow was not his own; it belonged to another and as he listened, he could feel the other's heart breaking behind the weight of it, shattering into pieces like dropped glass.  It was the voice of mourning he heard, a high, keening wail that stretched into the night, into the Force like a gale-wind.  It was not the first time he had felt this one's pain, nor, he suspected would it be the last._

                He saw the face of death, and it was a familiar mask, pain having fallen away to reveal a softer expression, eyes wide open but seeing nothing, lungs stilled, heart failed, a soul swept away to the Force on a final exhalation of air, leaving nothing behind but that agonized voice crying into the void.

                In that moment it is Mace Windu's voice he hears, and he knows that this vision was not his alone.

                "_We cannot tell the boy."_

                "Hmm…Decide his fate once again we must."

                "_We can't just turn him aside. Not now."_

                "No."

                "_But he's still not a Jedi, yet."_

                "Choose for him another we will.  A dangerous time this is; tempted by the dark side will he be."

                Yoda sighed softly as the vision melted away and he was left with the simple darkness of the Coruscant predawn, and with the echoes of pain that filled his heart.  Slowly he bowed his head.

                Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead.


	15. Chosen

Finally Chapter 15….16 is coming right behind; I wanted to post them together; this is why it has taken so long…Sorry!  For my dear Obi fans…all I can say is…stick with me and bear in mind that he's my favorite too. Lol  :D  and now onward….

= Thoughts transmitted through the master/apprentice bond.

 FIFTEEN

                Varix had "fallen" to the forces of the Republic.  The Coalition battlegroup had fallen away in retreat, all them confused and stunned by their loss except for Count Dooku, who remained as impassive as ever while he listened to Nute Gunray fret and fuss over this "horrible disaster."  He was privy to things Gunray would never know, and that was just barely enough for him to tolerate the borderline-hysterics being displayed by the nervous Neimoidian.

                So it was with great relief that Dooku took his leave of the Trade Federation's neurotic Viceroy to receive a scrambled transmission coming on his personal channel.  Leaving the stunned Neimoidian in his wake, Dooku made his way back to his private quarters aboard ship and keyed in the required codes to first receive, then decode and finally display the communication.

                It was, as he'd surmised, his master, Darth Sidious, robed and formally Dark, his political persona of supreme chancellor left somewhere, for the moment, behind in the dust.  Apparently something of import had taken place; Dooku bowed gracefully, graciously…subserviently, despite his dislike of lowering his gaze to someone he preferred to view as a contemporary.  But after all even revolutionaries had a sort of order to their ranks and this…revolution of sorts was no different.  Sidious was his master now and compelled as he was by the Dark Side of the Force Dooku had no choice but to obey.

                Whether he completely liked it or not.

                "Yes, Master." Dooku—Tyranus—greeted Sidious urbanely, politely.

                "I see from your earlier transmission that Varix is back in the Republic's possession."

                "There are scattered battles still taking place in the northern continent." Dooku allowed with a slight nod.  "But those should be mopped up shortly; the Trade Federation is true to form and withdrawing from most of them."

                Odd, that.  Relying on unreliability to achieve a goal.  Dooku shook his head slightly.

                "Very good, Lord Tyranus.  You may commence with your next operation; this one matters not, only that it stays within the Charmadis Sector.  We are not yet ready to move on the Core Worlds and the Outer Rim is of no use to us.  Choose wisely."

                Dooku's expression tightened a little, masking the vague surprise he felt at being given the reins so freely.

                "Yes.  I assume something has drawn your attention, Master?"  It was politely spoken, but curious nonetheless and that…_pleased expression seemed to deepen, and dark glee that defied description._

                "The boy is mine now…It will not be long before he comes to me; I have foreseen it.  And when he does, he will join us."  There was a calm confidence in his tone that was beyond arrogance and beyond description.

                So that was it.  The time had come for Palpatine to take the boy who would be Jedi—would be the Chosen One—and recreate him in the image of Sith.  Dooku inclined his head a bit.

                "The Code ingrained in him will need to be broken."

                "It may already be, Lord Tyranus.  It wasn't so difficult with you, was it?  So it shall be with Skywalker. He fancies himself to be already what he is not.  It will be a simple thing to turn him into what he can become."

                Dooku considered that for a moment.  Truly it hadn't taken much effort to sway, to twist, that which he'd believed in to serve the purposes of darkness.  But this young one…

                "He is powerful, my lord.  Rumored to be the Chosen One himself."

                "He is chosen, my apprentice.  But not as they see it. Anakin Skywalker has been chosen _by me."_

++++++

                "The Chair recognizes the Senator from Naboo."

                Palpatine's voice as Supreme Chancellor was as oily smooth as ever, and Padmé nodded to the assistant that would propel the viewing platform forward, hovering in the space before the Chancellor's platform, while she made her plea to the Senate.  Naboo had gained a substantial voice in the Galactic Senate in the ten years since their victory over the Trade Federation, mostly because of her own audacity but even so, she was only one voice amongst many.  While she would never hesitate to champion the causes she believed were right, right for her people or for the Republic in general, she was also painfully aware that there were many others who would not.

                Others like the representatives from Malastare, Inglah Kuo and Corellia who would sooner serve their own purposes than those of the Republic as a whole, or even of their own people who trusted their senators to speak for them.

                Representatives who would sweep away the Jedi Order and add yet more destabilization to a galaxy already about to explode.  Varix had been liberated from the Separatists, but by all accounts it had not been an easy victory and there had been much loss and destruction.

                Battles, even noble ones, produced casualties.  Padmé was determined to do her best to see to it that the Order did not become one of them.  As much as she had longed to remain at her husband's side, she still knew that it was more than only Obi-Wan that Anakin had concealed their marriage from and that they must be very careful.  Her time in the Jedi Temple had come to an end and so it was that Anakin persuaded her to attend the Senate session today, in order to speak out on the behalf of the Jedi that had so nobly protected the Republic.  Still even as the viewing platform drifted gracefully out into the "Void," as many senators called it, she couldn't help but recall the heartbroken expression on Anakin's face.  _He shouldn't face this alone._

                She looked up and to the right; there was the Alderaanian platform and Bail Organa, watching her with an encouraging nod.  The Senator from Alderaan had put up an impassioned plea for his proposal earlier in the session and the debates had been ongoing since then, wearing on well into the afternoon.  Padmé had taken all of the pettiness she could and while she was just that single voice…they all would, by the gods, _hear it._

                "My fellow representatives of the Republic…" Padmé's voice had lost none of the command it had carried as Naboo's queen and she used it to her best advantage now.  "Certainly we face many difficult decisions in the days ahead, and live in perilous times, there is no disputing that.  But to cast off the most loyal supporters of our Republic at the very moment when we need them most is beyond foolish, it is unthinkable.  The Jedi Order has done nothing deserving censure by this body.  On the contrary, we should consider their noble service to this Republic and accord it the respect it deserves.  Consider the reaching of peace on Ansion, just a little over a month ago.  Without direct Jedi involvement it never would have come about.  The same can be said for the peace processes on Valaras and Koubu, both of which are represented in this body today."

                Padmé paused a moment, drawing a measured breath, allowing her words to be felt.  "The Jedi Order, as you well know, aided the Chancellor's—and my—own homeworld of Naboo in seeking freedom from invasion a decade ago, and they have protected my life.  While some representatives here today have sought to blame the battle of Geonosis on their lack of foresight, if it hadn't been for Jedi intervention we would not have known about the alliance of our enemies until it was far too late.  As an eyewitness to that battle…it is the Jedi who suffered at Geonosis.  Not you.  Not your families.  Their deaths secured your lives.  The best thing would be to vote this ridiculous measure right off the floor; it's beneath us.  Gentlebeings, if we lose this honorable Order's confidence and protection, I fear grave consequences will be the result.  At the very least, consider Senator Organa's proposal.  We have nothing to lose and much to gain by it."

                There was a moment of silence following Padmé's entreaty, and then suddenly, much to her surprise, a cascade of applause began to ring, beginning near the representative from Koubu, whose life had been personally saved by Master Kenobi, at great risk to his own, Padmé recalled and then swept down throughout the chamber.  She had no doubt that the opponents of the Jedi would speak further, but she had at least thrown down the gauntlet.  Destroy the Jedi to your own peril.

                Suddenly, out of all those thousands of eyes focused on her, she felt as if she were being closely watched.  Lifting her head, she found her gaze met squarely by the Chancellor himself, and he held her gaze unflinchingly for several hard moments.

                From his central platform, Palpatine all but skewered Amidala with his glare.  Ansion, Valaras, Koubu, Naboo, Kamino by reference and Geonosis.  The senator's speech was practically a tribute to the recent missions of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a name that despite his calm reassurances to Dooku a scant few hours ago seemed destined to haunt his steps forever.

                Still, he could not afford to be discovered, not here, not now and so he simply inclined his head graciously toward Amidala, an acknowledgement.  Padmé dropped her gaze then, looking around the large chamber as she assessed her persuasion skills.

                If there was one the politicians could do well, it was talk, so she knew the debate was far from over and she would continue to speak for the Jedi.  She owed Anakin…owed _Obi-Wan…that much._

                How well she spoke for them, only time…and a vote…would tell.

++++++

                For the first time in his life, Anakin Skywalker felt truly alone.

                He wasn't, of course.  Life went on all around him, here in the Temple, out there, in the greater world of Coruscant and beyond, the myriads of life forms on all their worlds, going about their tasks.  Even his wife; at his insistence she was carrying out her senatorial duties.

                It was almost as if nothing had ever happened.

                Almost.

                _Any minute now, Master Obi-Wan is going to come through that door, chide me for the mess I made trying to fix that seeker droid, and tell me to get ready for 'saber practice._

                Anakin sighed heavily and leaned forward until his forehead rested against the transparisteel window he'd been gazing out of.  The coolness of the pane barely registered with him as he thought about his Master and wished for his advice.

                A second petition to pursue Master Obi-Wan's assassin had met with a similar refusal by the Council.  Despite the knowledge that as a Jedi he should obey their wishes, Anakin felt a heavy restlessness, an indecision of sorts.  He _knew he could track this killer if he was given the chance; perhaps find some kind of resolution to this hollow feeling…_

                Master Obi-Wan, he knew, would listen to the Council.  But what if he thought the Council was wrong?  _Really wrong?  What would he do then?  Anakin sighed heavily.  There would be no asking him…nor was it likely he would find any help from anyone else within the Temple, either._

                _Master, I wish I could talk to you._

                An idea dawned on him, and he straightened away from the window.  He considered it a moment more before scooping up his robe and hurrying out the door.

                His thoughts and steps carried him to the Archives, fabled throughout the galaxy as one of the most complete databases of knowledge in the known universe.  Seeking a station as far from the central areas of the Archive as possible, Anakin settled in and started the research he wanted to do before deciding on a course of action.

                If there was anyone who'd known anything about bucking against the Council, it had been Qui-Gon Jinn, or so he'd heard from Master Obi-Wan and Master Windu.  Perhaps there would be some insight in his mission profiles that would lend him the advice he needed so desperately.  _Jinn, Qui-Gon. The Archive entry popped up at his request, and Anakin's eyes widened at the amount of information present.  __This might take awhile._

                Drawing a deep breath, Anakin began to read.

++++++

                Finally, a vote had been called.

                Padmé sat quietly, listening as the last argument in favor of the Malastare proposal was being given, her eyes sweeping the Senate chamber, hoping that there had been enough support rallied behind Bail Organa's measure to protect the Jedi.  Senator Organa himself had put forward a final appeal for that support just a few minutes ago, and he was also anxiously watching while the current speaker spoke about his position on the issue.

                _We cannot lose the Jedi. She thought fleetingly.  __We must__ not lose them._

                She thought of Anakin, wondered how he was holding up, knowing how hard this had been on him.  Perhaps later she would be allowed to return to the Jedi Temple to see him although for secrecy's sake it would be easier for him to come to her than the other way around.

                Padmé exhaled slowly, raising her head to look out ahead at the orating senator, a sudden heaviness filling her.  There would not be enough support, and the tide would turn against them.  How she knew it, she wasn't sure but she _did know it.  The Jedi, who had pledged themselves to justice and peace, were becoming the scapegoats of a system burdened with its own importance even during a time of war._

                She lifted her eyes once more, seeking a familiar face. A few tiers up and to her left, Bail Organa was silently shaking his head.  Padmé caught his eye, and they looked at one another sadly; he knew the truth even as she did.  They would lose this fight and along with it any hope for Jedi aid in this Clone War.  The speech ended and for a long moment there was silence as the senator's viewing platform maneuvered back into place some tiers below where Padmé sat, out of her line of vision.

                "If there is no further argument to be made—" Chancellor Palpatine began to call the vote, but was interrupted by a strong, urgent voice.

                "I will speak!"

                Amazingly the voice is unaided by any amplification—at least, any amplification _device—and it is powerful enough to draw the attention of every single Senator and representative in the auditorium, including Palpatine.  The speaker is somewhat concealed in shadow on one of the upper observation decks for visitors to the Senate, but continues on.  "You debate a point of security, the ideals and objectives of the Jedi.  You call them into question and call into question the Republic's trust in them.  You propose measures and argue the arcane.  I will __show you what your debate will gain you."_

                The figure stepped out into the light, and a collective gasp rose from the entire assembly; Padmé found herself holding her breath, choking back a cry of dismay.

                The speaker was Jedi Master Adi Gallia.

                In her arms was the bloodied body of Luminara Unduli.


	16. A Turning of Fates

As promised, Chapter 16….17 will be in the works I promise…lol hopefully 'real life' and the muse will cooperate enough for me to post again soon. :D  In the meantime, enjoy…

= Thoughts transmitted through the master/apprentice bond.

 SIXTEEN

                Visions of his demise notwithstanding, Obi-Wan Kenobi slowly turned his head and opened his eyes; the relative darkness of the room indicated that that it was either very early evening or very early morning; he wasn't sure which.

                "You're awake." A soft voice murmured nearby.  "You have one very worried Padawan who will be glad to hear that."

                With an effort, Obi-Wan turned his head back in the other direction to see Jeriya's gentle eyes gazing back at him.  The young Healer favored him with a kind smile, her hands moving to pull up the blanket that had slipped down from his chest a bit when he shivered.  He blinked drowsily, realizing belatedly that he'd been given medication of some sort; the pain was not quite as demanding of his attention and he felt…fuzzy, for lack of a better description.

                "_How…long have…you…been here?" His whispered words cracked a bit in a dry throat and Jeriya, ever sensitive, responded compassionately by stepping away and returning a moment later with a small cup in her hands.  Carefully, she slipped an arm behind Obi-Wan's shoulders and supported his head while he sipped at the cooling water._

                "Just a few minutes." She answered quietly.  "I just finished my rounds on the upper level and thought I'd come down here to see how you were doing."

                "_Thank…thank you." Obi-Wan murmured as the Healer eased him back down into the pillows.  He winced a little; while the pain had been dulled by the medication it certainly wasn't about to let Obi-Wan forget its existence.  He closed his eyes briefly, trying to draw the Force around himself in an effort to control it further.  His eyes snapped open and a sudden panic washed through him as he found his grasp on the Force slippery at best, like the intermittent contact of a shorted circuit.  __Calm… He told himself, even as he struggled to find his center._

                It was worse now than it had been on the skip-ray; there wasn't even a shadow of it for him to find, and Obi-Wan swallowed hard as another spike of fear rose sharply.  Even without a solid connection to the Force to release it to, he tried to hold his panic down.

                "Sshh, Master Kenobi." Jeriya's voice, calming, at his side.  "Just go easy."

                "_What…what is…happening to me?" The Jedi Knight fought to keep his voice from shaking; the absence of the Force's familiar warmth frightening.  Jeriya hesitated; yet in the end she saw no good reason for keeping an explanation from him, and she exhaled slowly._

                "The toxin is affecting the midichlorians in your cells; you're feeling the effects on your ability to access the Force.  We're working on an antidote as fast as we can."  She meant the last to be reassuring; instead Obi-Wan closed his eyes and swallowed again.

                "_But we're…on borrowed time…" It was not a question.  Jeriya's hesitation now was all he needed to see to know he was right.  He'd known it…aboard the skip-ray he'd known it.  Yet he had not been able to deny Anakin's optimism…now he would have to guide his Padawan to reality._

                "We haven't given up." She said gently, but firmly.  "Don't you dare quit on us, Master Kenobi."

                "_Nn__…No. I…won't." He said shakily, getting a handle on his emotions and tucking them away somewhere in the back of his mind.  Even if Anakin was going to have to face the inevitable, it would only descend on them that much faster if he gave up the fight now.  "__Wh__…__where's Anakin?"_

                "He was summoned by the Council; he hasn't returned yet." Jeriya replied softly.  "He practically had to be forced out of here to get some rest yesterday; he wouldn't leave you.  I'll send for him, let him know you're awake."

                Obi-Wan opened his eyes again and looked at the young healer at his side.  He could fairly guess what the Council's intentions were in meeting with Anakin; whether openly or not they were likely sizing him up for a new master.  Recent hindrances aside, the Council operated as realists.  _The will of the Force…  A Force that was for the moment very elusive._

                "_Thank you, Jeriya." Obi-Wan blinked a little dazedly; the effects of the painkiller still visible in his eyes.  Jeriya placed her slender hand at his forearm, a gentle squeeze._

                "Can I get you anything?"  When he shook his head a little, she smiled a little.  "Try to rest now.  I'll be back in a little while."

                Obi-Wan's eyelids slid shut once more, and Jeriya stayed a moment longer, watching over the Jedi until he drifted once again toward sleep and then she slipped quietly from the room to find his apprentice.

++++++

                Shock-waves rippled through the Senate chamber, Luminara's corpse punctuating Adi's words with finality as harsh as the death that had claimed the young Jedi master.  Padmé closed her eyes and turned her head momentarily, sickened.  Sickened that it had come to war, sickened that the Senate's foundering had brought it about, sickened that as a price it had taken this honored Jedi's life.

                "Vote now, if you will." Adi said tonelessly, passionlessly.  She drew a deep, shuddering breath.  "Do not pretend that this will be the last Jedi to spill blood for your peace.  Do not pretend that you cannot see her.  Do not pretend at all but decide what you want for this Republic.  Truth or darkness.  The choice, as ever is yours.  The price…as ever…is ours."

                With that she withdrew, bearing up the body of her fallen compatriot, melting away into the shadows from whence she had emerged.  In all likelihood, Padmé surmised, returning to the Temple to prepare for the mourning of this life lost.

                The hushed murmurs that she left in her wake were enough to make Padmé seek out the face of Bail Organa once more.  The Alderaanian senator's expression was one of devastation, a sadness that echoed that of her own heart.  Adi Gallia had spoken truly; the choices had always been up to the Senate, to rulers and governments, planetary councils and others who had sought the intervention of the Jedi over the centuries.  But the price…the horrible price…had always been paid in Jedi blood, the greater good coming before their very lives.

                In a voice much less composed than it normally was, Supreme Chancellor Palpatine called for the vote.  Padmé once more looked over to lock gazes with the central figure of the Senate; for a brief moment he looked somehow…older than his years.  There was revulsion in his features that she had never seen there before, not even during the occupation of Naboo a decade ago, when their own people had been perishing.  Was it the tragedy of the Jedi's death that so revolted him or was it…something else?  Padmé frowned; the moment passed and Palpatine looked as he ever did, calm and ever in control, unfazed.  She swept her gaze about the chamber; she could feel a shift in her perception.

                Then, as Senator appointed of Naboo, Padmé Amidala cast her vote.

++++++

                Anakin left the Archives nearly as indecisive as he had been before going in; while Qui-Gon Jinn certainly had been a maverick in many of his ways, going so far as to defy the Council on occasion, he was not one to stray _too far from the Code or the guiding principles of what it meant, fundamentally, to be Jedi.  Would he defy the Council now, in this situation?  Would he intentionally disobey on the slender chance that he might save the life of his master, were he in Anakin's position?_

                Yes.

                No.

                I don't know.

                Anakin sighed a little as he proceeded back to the Healing Ward, not wanting to stay away from his Master for too long.  He'd returned to the Ward after seeing Padmé away, and then spent a restless night in the chair at Obi-Wan's bedside, leaving only when his request to speak to the Council had been granted.  He had no doubt that Jeriya would chide him for not sleeping more, but he couldn't help that just now.  There were things more important than sleep clamoring for his thoughts, insisting on attention being paid to them.

                His master's life was paramount among them.

                Reaching the Ward, he slipped inside and started up toward Obi-Wan's room; partway there he met Jeriya coming the other way and he slowed his steps, instinctively knowing that something had changed.  He felt as if his heart had just jammed up into his throat and he swallowed a little.

                "Master Obi-Wan…?"

                "He's awake, Anakin.  Asked for you." Jeriya informed him softly.  "He's still a little out of it from the ambrisam."

                "And…?" Anakin sensed there was more and he was not mistaken.

                "And…he's beginning to feel disconnected from the Force."

                Jeriya's statement hit him like a fist between the eyes.  Despite the warning from Obuk that the midichlorians in Obi-Wan's system were under attack from the toxin, it was still a moment before Anakin could catch his breath; he felt as if it was slowly being squeezed from him.

                "Can I...is it all right if I go back in?" He asked anxiously, and Jeriya nodded.  Quickening his pace, the young Jedi apprentice quietly entered the room in which his master laid; soft steps to the chair beside the bed and then sat down slowly, his eyes watchful.  After several moments, he reached over hesitantly and laid his hand over Obi-Wan's wrist.  "Master?  Master, I'm here."  Obi-Wan's eyes opened and came to bear on his apprentice, and a weak smile briefly crossed his features.

                "_Anakin..." Obi-Wan closed his eyes, opening them again moments later with some effort; it was obvious to Anakin that his master was still heavily sedated.  "__Wh__…what did…the Council want…to speak with you…about?"_

                "The battle has turned at Varix, Master." Anakin's voice was quiet, subdued.  "Master Gallia is returning soon."

                "_Battle?" The Jedi Knight echoed, confused._

                "That's right…we were still on the way to Aure.  Varix, in the Charmadis sector…Dooku took in a whole battlegroup against it.  Chancellor Palpatine sent a strike force and the Council sent Master Gallia and Master Unduli."

                "_And...the battle…turned?"  Obi-Wan prompted, and Anakin shook his head, knowing that the details—that Luminara's death—could wait.  For now, it was enough for the ill Jedi to know that the planet had been retaken by Republic forces.  Neither did he need to know that he had been petitioning the Council to grant his request to continue this investigation._

                "Later, Master, okay?  Don't worry about anything but getting well." Anakin squeezed lightly at Obi-Wan's wrist.  "Gotta fix one thing at a time."

                "_Anakin…" Obi-Wan breathed out, a distressed expression briefly crossing his features.  Jeriya's words come back to him…__We haven't given up…and he could not bring himself to finish it, to tell Anakin that there are some things that just can't be fixed.  Closing his eyes, he nodded a little.  "__Okay."_

                Anakin watched his master drift, for a moment biting his lower lip and looking much younger than his twenty standard years.__

                "That's it, Master.  Just lie still.  You're going to be…"

                The young padawan's reassurances are interrupted by the entrance of Healer Obuk, whose expression is graced by a gentle smile, and Anakin looked up hopefully.

                "Obi-Wan." The healer intoned quietly, and slowly the ginger-headed Knight blinked open his eyes.  "We think we've found something to slow the toxin down, buy us some more time." Obuk poured a measure of a pale-blue colored liquid from a vial into a small cup.  Raising Obi-Wan's head and shoulders a little, he held the cup to his patient's lips.

                "_Ohh…" Kenobi grimaced after the first swallow. "__That stuff…is disgusting, Obuk."_

                "Maybe so," The healer gave him a reassuring smile.  "But that disgusting stuff is going to make you feel a lot better." He held the cup to Obi-Wan's mouth again.  Closing his eyes, resigning himself to the horrible taste, the Jedi quickly swallowed down the rest of it before Obuk eased him back down onto the pillows.  "That might make you sleep awhile again…couple hours."

                Despite his tenuous hold on the Force, Obi-Wan's mental groan at being so helpless filtered back along the bond toward Anakin, and the apprentice shook his head just the tiniest bit.

                Don't fight it, Master.  Just go to sleep; it's okay.  I'll be here when you wake up, I promise.

                Obi-Wan's expression softened into something gentle and affectionate; had their roles been reversed, he could imagine himself saying those very same words, seeking to comfort his apprentice.  Then he frowned a little, struggling to concentrate, focus.  Shakily he reached out into the bond, gratefully felt the welcome, familiar touch of the Force although it was not a strong connection, and projected thought into it.

                _All...right, my Padawan._

                Obuk watched the two of them as sleep slowly overtook the weakened Jedi lying before him.  Anakin's hand never left his master's arm, a gentle point of contact as if to reinforce his presence.  It made sense to the Master Healer; if his patient's current midichlorian count was any indication, it was quite likely that Obi-Wan would have trouble accessing the bond between himself and his Padawan.  It would be almost as disconcerting a sensation as the slow disintegration of his link to the Force itself.  _Force preserve__ him. Obuk thought fleetingly._

                "Thank you Master Obuk." Anakin said gratefully, earnestly.

                "Don't thank me just yet, young Skywalker." Obuk replied quietly, pragmatically.  "It's not a cure, yet.  But we do have something now that we didn't have before—time.  A little more at least."  The Healer looked back to Obi-Wan's sleeping features, brushed almost a fatherly hand across the pale brow; he remembered the young exuberant Initiate, the inexperienced yet intuitive Padawan, and the young, sober-before-his-time Knight that had been under his care so often in the past.  Everything from scraped knees and broken bones to 'saber burns and blaster wounds; the Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn had become a familiar face in the Ward and now that he had a Padawan of his own he still was no stranger to the sterile halls, allowing Obuk to come to know him nearly as well as anyone else in the Temple ever would.  With a silent nod to Anakin, the Healer took his leave to attend to other duties, but he would be back before too long to check on Obi-Wan's progress.

                Anakin watched the tall, slender Healer exit the room, and then turned back toward his Master, watching as Obi-Wan slept.  Without breaking his light grip at Obi-Wan's wrist, he settled into the chair more comfortably to await his Master's waking.

++++++

                Adi Gallia managed to take a handful of shaky steps before she collapsed to her knees in the hallway just beyond the Senate auditorium, Luminara's body cradled in her arms.  'There is no death, only the Force' seemed hollow to her just now as she used the torn sleeve of her Jedi robe to gently wipe away the blood from the departed Master's face.  Adi trembled as tenderly touched the cold cheek, wishing she could have been faster, wishing she could have been at Luminara's side as the pain of her wounds at torn at the fallen Jedi, wished she could have, if not saved Luminara, at least eased her passage from this life into the Force.

                But there was no time, no time…they had been surrounded and separated by Coalition forces, suddenly and abruptly alone with only a small handful of Republic clone troopers to assist them.  Adi closed her eyes, hearing once again the scream that would be forever etched into her memory; Luminara falling beneath the overwhelming odds of her attackers, wounded severely in the chest and stomach.  Blood…there had been blood everywhere, too much of it, too fast…

                Slowly Adi struggled back to her feet, her eyes vacant, her breath ragged.  She must return to the Temple now.  There was nothing else for her to do here; whether they argued on about the fate of the Order or if they called a vote was of small importance to her now.  She had to get back to the Temple…had to take Luminara home.

                Yes.  It was time to go home.  The galaxy was self-destructing all around her; Varix was returned to the Republic but that didn't matter now.  All her life she had sought to give herself in service to a system that was crumbling in a swelter of greed, power and petty politics but that didn't matter now either.  All that mattered was going home…taking Luminara home.

                The air-car ride back to the Temple was accomplished in silence; the pilot not asking any questions and Adi not volunteering any answers.  She simply sat in the back, cradling the body of her friend, her mind knowing that Luminara was beyond sensing such comfort, but her heart prompting it anyway, as if a farewell could yet be spoken between them.

                Her arrival at the Temple was also in silence; several of the Council were present, as well as Luminara's Padawan, and finally Adi relinquished the slain Jedi's body.  They would all stand at Master Unduli's funeral pyre this night, she knew, and finally a heavy sigh escaped her.  Just that quickly, Mace Windu was at her side, another old friend who well understood what this loss meant to her.  He literally held her up, helping her to walk numbly back into the one place she knew as home.

                The Battle of Varix was over.

++++++

                Anakin Skywalker would approach him soon, Palpatine knew.  He was well aware of the Council's refusal to allow the boy an outlet for revenge.  Of course Anakin had no conscious intention of such vengeance, but as on Tatooine, it would only take the proper push to bring it about.  Shmi Skywalker's death at the hands of the Tusken Raiders had been no coincidence or act of fate; she had been purposely taken and turned over to the Raiders with the express intention of pushing her boy closer to the Darkness.  For a price, of course.  But in the Outer Rim, people were so easily bought and sold, whether slave or free; it hadn't taken much.

Palpatine had no sympathy for Ich'im; when the boy caught up with him there would simply be one less assassin in the universe.  Nothing to shed any tears over at any rate.  The Dark Side had its first marks on the young padawan already; it would be a simple thing to amplify them and bend Skywalker to his will.

                The vote had gone against him by a narrow margin; the Malastare restriction measure dying in its infancy as that damnedable Jedi's plea to her compatriot's death had swayed opinions.  The weak-minded were so easily led.  He himself had used it to his advantage numerous times to be sure, but it engendered a deep disdain of those whom he led.  Palpatine had called an end to the session, thereby putting off the vote on Bail Organa's measure until a later date.  The last thing he needed was to have Jedi running around in the command structure of his armies.  The boy however was of more importance even than controlling the outcome of the Senate vote.  He had already foreseen that Skywalker would be his key to ruling the galaxy; little would change that no matter how the destruction of the Order was ultimately achieved.

                Patience…it was about to be rewarded.  Gazing out over the Coruscant skyline visible from the balcony on which he stood, Palpatine relished every moment of it.  All the waiting, all the designing, all the calculating…it was all about to become worth it.

++++++

                Anakin watched anxiously as Obi-Wan turned his head restlessly, moaning softly.  Sleep had given way to the incoherent murmuring of distressed dreams; illusory images indistinguishable from reality and fueled by fever.

                A different kind of restlessness burned inside Anakin but was no less coercive, setting his thoughts to racing as fast as the pods he piloted on Tatooine as a young boy.  It was like being stuck in quicksand; the harder the struggle, the more trapped…

                _Trapped.  That was exactly the feeling.  Despite his efforts to stay optimistic, Anakin knew that Obi-Wan was slowly dying.  If nothing could be done for him, soon, his life would be forfeit to the Force.  Yet, backed up against that hard wall, the Council would allow him to do exactly that—nothing.  He was forced to sit here and watch his master crumble beneath the poisonous assault, watch as the pain battered him mercilessly, watch as the Force fled from him like sand through a sieve._

                _I can't do this.  He thought desperately.  His hand was still at Obi-Wan's wrist; he squeezed once, lightly, a reassurance of his presence even though he was certain that in those feverish dreams, Obi-Wan was unaware of it._

                Obuk stepped quietly into the room, and Anakin looked up quickly.

                "I thought you said that was supposed to make him feel _better, not worse.  He's been like this for awhile now." Anakin watched as the Master Healer came to Obi-Wan's other side, felt the ripple in the Force as Obuk stretched out toward his patient._

                "The medication _is working…the last blood sample Jeriya took indicates a slow-down in the toxin's destructive rate; his midichlorian count hasn't dropped significantly in the past two hours." Obuk continued checking over his patient as he spoke.  "Fever isn't breaking though…"  As if to underscore the healer's observation, Obi-Wan murmured something unintelligible, shifting a little listlessly._

                "Anything more on an antidote?" Anakin asked hopefully, even though he already knew the answer quite likely was no different from the last time he'd asked. Obuk shook his head a little, and Anakin sighed slowly.  "I…I'll be right back."

                Anakin got up with a quick squeeze at his master's wrist, and then quickly he hurried from the room.  He just needed a few moments…just to breathe.  He headed for the small waiting area, intending to take just a small break.  It was just so hard to see Master Obi-Wan like this, harder than anything he had ever faced here at the Temple.  Even Master Yoda's tests had not been so difficult or painful.  _I can't do __this.  He thought again, desperately.  __I can't…I won't __sit here while my master leaves me.  They can't make me.  They can't._

                However the last time he'd directly disobeyed the Council had very nearly resulted in the execution of Master Obi-Wan, Padmé and himself in the Geonosian arena...  That had been trying to save his master's life as well.  Anakin unconsciously smiled to himself a little bit. It seemed like Master Obi-Wan always needed rescuing of some sort, whether it was from the cloying atmosphere of Coruscant political functions or from a nest of gundarks.  _To be fair, he's rescued you from a few sticky situations too, Skywalker.  Anakin told himself.  Like the Council inquiry following Geonosis __concerning that disobedience.  His master had persuaded the Council to forego disciplinary action with a little silver-tongued reasoning; Anakin __knew he owed him for that one._

                And who would argue for him now if he went against the Council and Master Obi-Wan died anyway?

                _Does it matter? Anakin reflected anxiously as he looked out the small window at distant speeder traffic.  __If the Force takes Master Obi-Wan...  Anakin shut down that train of thought, and glanced back over his shoulder toward his master's room.  There was one person he might talk to who would have an answer for him.  Even more so than Padmé, there would be a sympathetic ear and advice.  Perhaps a prejudiced viewpoint; Anakin knew that maybe he would hear only what he wanted to hear, taking the advice offered and using it to support his inclination.  __Well…at least it would be back-up of some sort._

                Gathering his robe about himself tightly, he made a decision.  Obuk would tend to his master for a time now anyway; there was a little time before his master might need him again.  His steps slow at first then picking up speed with purpose, Anakin headed off for the speeder bay.  He would seek an audience with Supreme Chancellor Palpatine.

++++++

                The mood in the Jedi Council's audience chamber was solemn, as always, but even more subdued, it seemed to Mace Windu.  He was the only being present; the session of a little while ago had ended several minutes ago and yet he still lingered, his thoughts drawn in several directions.  Varix was being restored; it would take the small world likely several months to a several years to repair battle damages, the scars of war left upon her fair surface and in the hearts of her fair people.

                It might take nearly as long to heal the damage done to a single Jedi Master.  Adi Gallia had been strong all her life, a woman…a _Jedi not to be trifled with; her skills both as a peacemaker and a warrior were formidable, mind and body strong with the Force.  But now, after Varix…  Mace sighed softly.  Aside from a few minor injuries her body was still intact.  However, her mind…her mind was shattered, like a vase dropped from a height.  Oh nothing was beyond the capabilities of the Force, he knew that, and he still had faith.  But he had just left his friend in a healer's arms, weeping uncontrollable tears, and he knew that no matter what happened now, things would never be the same again._

                Mace's melancholy thoughts turned toward Obi-Wan Kenobi and his apprentice.  He had not yet forgotten young Skywalker's crestfallen expression at being turned aside from pursuing the Uleare investigation in the name of his master's sake.  Yoda's foretelling of Obi-Wan's death had been chilling enough, but even more so was the sense of hunger, of darkness, that seemed to whisper in it.  Mace too had seen the vision, but not felt the cold touch that Yoda had, the menacing echo behind the last whispered breath of the poisoned Jedi Knight.  While he had said nothing to Yoda about it as yet, he could not help but wonder if refusing the padawan's request was the right thing to do.

                The transparisteel dome of the audience chamber afford its occupants a stunning view of the surrounding cityscape; it is so familiar that sometimes it is taken for granted by those whose daily activities bring them here often.  But Mace is suddenly struck by the memory of the first time Obi-Wan Kenobi had ever set foot in this chamber, some few months before Qui-Gon took him on as his apprentice.  The then twelve year old boy had been in wide-eyed wonder; his entire life had been spent in the Temple and yet those sharp blue-grey eyes had been totally taken with this view and this place, drinking in everything and missing nothing, details permanently etched into the fabric of his soul.

                A chill feeling did take him now, sweeping down his spine in a quick shiver that made him look up from his reverie.  Somehow he knew this was more than just…a mood, or a stray emotion; this was the future and it was utterly black…war, death, loss no longer distant echoes but a present storm howling throughout the galaxy.  _Force save us…we are blind.  We are blind and the darkness will take us all.  But for all that, he must still live in the present, and could only do what he could for this day alone._

                It was only after several moments that he realized he was not alone in the chamber; Mace looked up suddenly to see the young page, Zaren, standing there behind him, waiting respectfully.  Windu simply raised an eyebrow, a curious question in the dark eyes.

                "There is a message for you, Master Windu." Zaren prefaced, and straightened a bit.  "From the Senate."

                Zaren moved aside then, and standing behind him was Senator Padmé Amidala.


	17. Sadness Of The Stars

Update! This chapter came very hard….sorry for the delay.  LOL…maybe if someone sent my muse some _chocolate she'd quit giving me such a hard time. ;)  In the meanwhile, enjoy!_

= Thoughts transmitted through the master/apprentice bond.

 SEVENTEEN

                The sunrise on Dhalis II was like any other sunrise, brilliant, beautiful, tinged with fiery colors heralding a new day.  Avalisa greeted the sun as most of her people would, with a small bow and a makretei, or chant, of thanks for another day of life-giving warmth.

                She was approximately sixteen standard years by the Republic calendar, although she was ignorant of that fact; her years here were marked by the seasonal rains that came in the spring and the fall and so she was thirty cycles old.  Her people were simple ones, agricultural families that had settled in the remote regions of the planet, far from the centers of government in the Inner Land.  She knew nothing of battles and war and Senate arguments, or of Jedi, or of the Force.

                Avalisa topped the crest of the hill into which her home was built, heading for the well to gather the morning water.  And stopped in her tracks, dropping the bucket as she saw with terrified eyes what was just beyond the rise.

                She never had a chance to cry out, or turn back to warn anyone.

                Uncaring, unfeeling, the 'droid armies of the Coalition walked over her body as they marched on her world.

++++++

                Anakin walked into the office of the Supreme Chancellor with a steady, single-minded determination in his stride and expression.  It was a resolve that Palpatine was pleased to see; it was one more indication of how close the boy was coming to being totally his.  Rising to his feet, the Chancellor put on a concerned look and met the apprentice partway into the room.

                "Padawan Skywalker." He greeted solemnly.  "How is it with Master Kenobi?  I hope your presence here betokens good news."  Palpatine noted the subtle changes in Skywalker's demeanor, the brief flashes of upset and fear that ran through the boy like undercurrents in a river.

                "I wish I could tell you that, Chancellor." Anakin's reply held a note of poorly concealed dejection.  "The Healers are doing all they can to help him, but Master Obi-Wan is…" He couldn't quite bring himself to say the word 'dying.'  "He's dangerously ill."

                "I am most sorry to hear that so little can be done for him." Palpatine said consolingly, motioning for the boy to have a seat across from him as he moved to retake his own chair behind the wide desk.  "Truly the Jedi Healers are renowned throughout the galaxy for their abilities…"

                "They can't use the Force against this…poison." Anakin explained; his eyes troubled.  "The master healers say that it was created specifically to assassinate Master Obi-Wan.  He's Jedi, so…"

                "So the killer planned specifically to resist Force-manipulation." Palpatine "deduced," although this project had been the very reason he had hired Ich'im in the first place.  Anakin nodded miserably.  "They are trying to formulate an antidote, then?"

                "Yes." Anakin drew his robe about him, hands hidden beneath its folds and allowing his gaze to fall for a moment.  "So far they haven't been successful."  He looked up sharply.  "I don't know if they _can be successful; there's just too much about it that they don't know; that they can't know.  I believe we have to find the assassin, find out who is behind this…if we're going to save his life."_

                "What is the progress of that investigation?" Palpatine inquired almost idly, his hooded gaze intently observing the young Jedi-in-training.  Anakin fidgeted a little, unable to keep still, his anxiety betrayed by the small nervous movements.

                "That's why I've come to speak with you.  There _is no investigation.  I've approached the Council twice about it and…they feel it's too dangerous with the current Separatist presence in the Charmadis Sector." Anakin hesitated briefly, his expression one of admission.  "After all, Master Unduli was killed at Varix."_

                "I've heard." Palpatine answered shortly; the defeat of the restriction proposal disallowing the pleasure he might have taken from the display of the Jedi's corpse in the Senate auditorium.  Carefully he guided his tone of voice away from annoyance.  "My deepest condolences to the Order.  I understand that Master Unduli was a rather skilled negotiator; her abilities will be sorely missed I am sure."

                "Yes they will." Anakin agreed.  The blue-eyed gaze wavered for a moment, as if a decision was being made.  "I want to help my Master.  I _have to help him.  I just don't know where to start."_

                It was the opening, the opportunity that Palpatine had been waiting for, and he could not pass it up.

                "You must start by trusting your feelings, Anakin." He said pointedly, allowing a slight inflection of his voice to put a twist on the time-honored teaching of the Jedi.  "What is it that you know deep inside that you can't ignore?"

                "If I don't try to help him, Master Obi-Wan is going to die." The words were out of Anakin's mouth with such force and conviction that they took even him by surprise.  Abruptly he was up on his feet, his anxiety displayed in the restless motion.  "I can save him…I _know I can save him.  But the Council can't see…"  Anakin stopped suddenly, unwilling to get into that whole conversation.  Palpatine sensed it, pressed the advantage._

                "What else do you know, young Jedi?"

                It was almost as it was being dragged out of him; Anakin found that instead of the sympathetic ear, Palpatine was mapping a course for him to voice his thoughts.  Swallowing a little, the tall lanky apprentice looked away before answering.

                "The Council is wrong.  They're wrong about this; I can't just sit by and watch my master die and I'm not going to."

                "You are the Order's greatest asset, Anakin.  And yet they don't use you, don't allow you to come to your full potential.  You see, young Skywalker…" Palpatine turned in his chair, watching as Anakin drifted closer to the transparisteel window, gazing outward.  "The Jedi deny themselves.  They deny themselves everything that could prove useful.  There is something to be learned from that, I think.  I deny myself nothing…and am rarely disappointed."

                "What about…disappointing someone else?" Anakin asked softly.  He knew that Master Obi-Wan would disapprove, even though it was for _him that Anakin would go.  He could almost hear the lightly accented tones: "After all, Anakin, the Code wasn't meant to be a list of __suggestions."_

                "You must trust your instincts." Palpatine steepled his fingers thoughtfully as he regarded the young padawan.  "Where do they take you, Anakin?"  A pair of intense blue eyes turned upon him.

                "They take me to Uleare."

                "Then to Uleare you must go.  Go and return, rescue your Master if you can."

                It was another dismissal, but it was more than he could have hoped.  Anakin inclined his head slightly, a wordless farewell, as he turned and strode from the room.  The Council could flounder in their sightlessness all they wanted…he was going to save Master Obi-Wan.  It was bare minutes after the boy's departure that Palpatine keyed in a private communication to Uleare.  "The boy will come to you soon.  Be sure that he finds you."

++++++

                Empty of all but Mace Windu, the Jedi Council's audience chamber seemed almost…cold without the bright presences all around; even a non-Force sensitive like Padmé could feel that.  Mace himself seemed to have been…dimmed, somehow, like a candle guttering along stubbornly.

                "Master Jedi." She greeted softly as Zaren withdrew from the chamber.

                "Senator." He answered back with a slight inclination of his head.  He glanced back once more toward the surrounding skyline.  Traffic was picking up; the early evening herald of Coruscant's busy nightlife.  Air-cars and speeders jetted about and a few larger transports demanded some attention from the busy sky-lanes.

                "I am sorry about Master Unduli." Padmé prefaced; her expression compassionate and saddened, her tone kindly.  "She will be missed among you, I fear."

                "There is no fear in that, Senator Amidala." Mace replied, his eyes shining with the conviction of his words.  "Luminara will always be with us, one with the Force."  The motion he made with his hand was sweeping, all-encompassing, the wide sleeve of the brown Jedi robe punctuating it.  Padmé nodded a little, understanding but not quite, the usual reaction of someone who was not Force-sensitive.  That she was compassionate was enough; Mace dipped his head toward her a little, a small lifting of his shoulders in an admissive shrug.  "But yes, she will be missed."

                Padmé looked up at that last, the famous Jedi reserve lifted away momentarily, just long enough to see the pain shaded in human eyes.  It was pain that would be released into the Force; there was comfort at hand and the Code offered some of that as well.  But it was refreshing to see a spark of what made Mace Windu who he was, and she acknowledged it with a small, comforting smile.

                "I came to speak with you about the Senate session today.  The Malastare measure was voted down decisively.  It was unexpected, really and…had it not been for Master Gallia, it would not have been, I'm quite sure."

                "Master Gallia?"  Now it was Mace's turn to look up sharply, his brows tucking into a deep frown.  "What about Master Gallia?"  With a start, Padmé realized that the dark-skinned Jedi did not know…perhaps none of them did.

                "Master Gallia…addressed the Senate." Padmé explained gently, as if she would not injure further with her words what had already been wounded by Luminara's death.  "She…had Master Unduli with her."  She watched as understanding dawned in Mace's eyes, spread across his expression, ended in a closing of eyes and a slight bowing of his head.  Adi had confronted the squabbling senators with the reality of war.

                And it had worked.

                "The will of the Force…" Windu murmured softly, nearly to himself.  Padmé waited quietly before speaking further, watching the Jedi Council member absorb this news thoughtfully.

                "I think there will be some better support of Senator Organa's proposal now, and it will be welcomed."

                "Is that truly necessary now?" Mace asked, glancing back toward her again.  "Now that the Malastare item has been removed from consideration?"

                "What is to prevent them from redrafting it and putting it to another vote?" Padmé replied with a small wave of her hand.  "They could rally others around them and then there would _be no Jedi Order. They would use the measure to slowly dismantle you piece by piece.  This way…under Senator Organa's resolution there is at least some security.  A way to protect the Order's survival even if the structure is dismantled."_

                "The Jedi have survived for millennia without the need of outside protection, milady." Mace said, taking the sort of hard line most of his peers would.

                "That time, Master Jedi, may be past." The slender senator said persuasively.  "At least accept the offer while you can…if fortunes change much further, the Order may find it impossible to find such assistance later."

                "Perhaps.  The Force has always guided us, Senator."  Mace did not add however that on this issue the Force had been strangely silent.  Not even Master Yoda had had any foresight into it.

                "I pray it will continue to do so." Padmé recognized Windu's statement for what it was, a dismissal of sorts of the notion that the situation was that grave.  She waited a handful of heartbeats.

                "We will…consider it." He finally said, and that was enough.  At least they would give the Alderaanian resolution some thought, perhaps even support it.  Truly, Padmé believed, it was the Jedi Order's best hope for survival and the galaxy's best hope for surviving this Clone War.  There was a moment's silence again; the pauses seeming to facilitate the conversation rather than hinder it, and then Padmé spoke again.

                "What word…on Master Kenobi?"

                Now it was Mace's turn to soften his expression, his tone.  Obi-Wan had served Padmé and her homeworld honorably on several occasions and he could feel the worry rolling off the young senator.  He sighed slowly, folding his arms across his chest.

                "Obi-Wan is…holding his own for the moment, at least as of my last communication with the Healers.  They found a way to slow the toxin's advance but his condition is still very serious."

                "It's…a cure, then?" Padmé asked hopefully.  Mace gave his head a small shake.

                "No.  But Obuk tells me they are working on it as fast as they possibly can.  The more time they can buy for Obi-Wan, the better his chances are, but I don't think those odds haven't improved very much yet."  Windu closed his eyes briefly, reaching up to rub them with the fingertips of one hand.  "I've known Obi-Wan since he was a young Initiate, passing most of his age-mates with his grasp of lightsaber techniques.  I still to this day don't know very many Knights at his level with that sort of skill with a 'saber.  Force willing, he'll be spared."  It was awkward, speaking of the young Knight this way; the painful vision of Kenobi's death still pressed heavily against his thoughts.

                "It must be very difficult for his padawan-learner." Padmé said quietly, allowing her gaze to drop slightly, thoughtfully.  She had had no word from Anakin since just before stepping into the Senate chamber earlier in the day and she could only imagine how worried her husband must be.  Mace glanced over at her, a slight nod to her insight.

                "Padawan Skywalker is taking it very hard, yes." Mace sighed softly.  _But you haven't had to watch him hurt.  I have.  Anakin's words drifted back to the forefront of his mind and he turned his head to peruse the darkening, deepening shadows of nightfall._

                "I know the hour is late…" Padmé hesitated a little, unsure of how to make this request.  "With your permission, I'd like to return to the Healers' Wing and wait awhile."

                "Your concern is appreciated Senator, but there is little you can do here.  Still, if you wish, I will have Zaren conduct you back to the Ward." Mace glanced past Padmé's shoulder; a moment later Zaren returned, bowing slightly.  "Thank you for coming, Senator.  I will be sure to pass your information on to the rest of the Council.  Zaren, take Senator Amidala back to the Healing Ward."

                "Yes, Master Windu." The Initiate bowed again, and motioned for the senator to accompany him.  Mace watched the slender young woman go, considering her words once more.  _If fortunes change much further…  If fortunes changed much further, he reflected bleakly, there would be little enough to fight __for, let alone act as protectors over.  __We must not allow that to happen.  Gathering his robe about himself, Mace moved from the window and strode from the audience chamber.  He would seek out Master Yoda and speak to him of this development._

++++++

                Anakin sat quietly beside Obi-Wan as his master drifted in and out of a feverish sleep punctuated by delirious murmuring and restless dreams.  Fewer and farther between the nightmares were moments of lucidity, some of them filled with bits of conversation and awareness, some of them marked by much pain.

                It was the painful moments that were hardest to bear.  Obi-Wan sometimes made it through the ordeal by sheer stubbornness.  Sometimes however, simple force of will just wasn't enough; the soft moans tore through Anakin like a knife, knowing his master was suffering and that there was so little he could do to ease that suffering.

                This was one of the hard times.  Obi-Wan's weak groan caught Anakin's attention instantly, and quickly the younger man shifted in the chair, reaching forward to catch at the hand that slid toward him hesitantly, grasping it very carefully with his prosthetic one.  The sensors embedded in the metallic palm registered the pressure of Obi-Wan's grip; it tightened a little as the pain assaulted him.

                "I'm right here, Master." He reassured, his prosthetic fingers curling a little around Obi-Wan's hand.  With the fingers of his left, the young padawan reached up and smoothed back damp ginger hair from a fevered brow.  Once again he tried to enfold his master in the comfort of the Force, tried to help it not to hurt so much.  Anakin's efforts were relatively ineffective; even though the toxin had been slowed quite a bit, there were still midichlorians being destroyed, damaging Kenobi's receptiveness to his padawan's assistance.

                "_Force..." Obi-Wan whispered between ragged breaths._

                "Hang on, Master." Anakin encouraged.

                "_An__...Anakin…I…I can't..."  Obi-Wan shook his head just slightly, almost imperceptibly, eyes slipping shut.  Anakin blinked back sudden tears that welled in his own eyes; it was bad enough to see his master in pain; to hear him plead for it to stop was heartbreaking.  He shook his head, slowly, then again more adamantly._

                "Yes…yes you can, Master…you _have to.  You can't leave…" Anakin choked back the words, refused to speak them, knew he had to be strong for his master, who was now so weak.  "I know it's hard.  Just stay with me, okay?"_

                "Anakin?"  The padawan looked up to see Jeriya hurrying into the room, Obi-Wan's distress having been enough for her to sense it.

                "You've gotta help him, Jeriya…make the pain stop." He begged her desperately.  "It's really bad this time, he's really hurting."

                "I know…" Jeriya said softly, coming alongside the bed, a delicate touch at Obi-Wan's shoulder.  "Master Kenobi?  Can you hear me?"  Blue-grey eyes opened, fixed on her, a silent entreaty.  "Let's see what we can do to help you feel better, okay?"  She kept her voice light, comforting.

Anakin stayed close to his master's side as Jeriya rested a slender hand on Obi-Wan's chest and projected very specifically targeted, gentle touches through the Force.  Her healer's training allowing her to be much more focused than Anakin's generalized efforts through the bond and despite the slow shredding of Obi-Wan's Force-consciousness, the young Healer's attempts to alleviate the worst of the pain began to meet with moderate success.  Anakin watched anxiously as Obi-Wan's shallow, distressed breathing slowed and muscles rigid and taut against the incessant ache gradually relaxed.  "Better?" Jeriya smoothed the palm of her hand over Obi-Wan's forehead.

"_Better…" The stricken Jedi nodded a little.  But Anakin could tell, could sense, that it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.  The soft sigh that escaped his master was one of relief, but Anakin could sense the storm of pain that roiled just beneath the surface, threatening to break over Jeriya's palliative touch and overwhelm Obi-Wan once more._

"Rest, Master." Anakin glanced down at Obi-Wan's hand, lying loosely now against his prosthetic one, its warmth leaching into the cool metallic surface.  Opening the long inorganic fingers, the Jedi padawan placed his left hand over his master's…flesh and bone touching flesh and bone.

Poets and philosophers, even scientists and physicians had plenty to say about a single touch.  Communication, shades of caring, even healing could be imparted with such a gesture.  Anakin did not think about any of that now; he only knew that his left hand was warm…human…and despite its technological strength and wizardry, his right one was not.  Slowly, ever so slowly, Obi-Wan turned his hand over, palm up, to grasp at that warmth, curling his fingers around his padawan's and squeezing lightly.  It wasn't a lot.  But it was enough.  And then Obi-Wan drifted once more, the coherent moment sliding away from them, lost to the fever.  Anakin continued to look at their hands, clasped together, for a long moment before looking back at Jeriya.  "Thank you for that.  I just wish…he didn't have to hurt at all."

"I know."  Jeriya moved her hand now from Obi-Wan's chest and came around the bed to her friend's side, reaching up to place both of her delicate hands around Anakin's arm.  "I am glad it worked…we really don't want to rely on the ambrisam, but if it gets much worse, we might have to."

"Healer Jeriya?"

The voice at the door makes them both look up, neither of them having paid particular attention to much else save the desperately ill Jedi lying before them.  It is a young Council page; it takes Anakin a moment to refocus, and recall the young Initiate's name.

"What is it Zaren?" He answers for them both, just as curious as the healer at his side why a Council page would be approaching them at this hour.

"I have…someone here who wishes to speak with you, Padawan Skywalker.  Senator Amidala of Naboo is in the waiting area."

Padmé.  Anakin swallowed suddenly.  He had to talk to her; he needed her.  Masking a sudden anxiety beneath the several layers of shields he had learned to construct to keep this secret just as it was—a secret—he nodded to the page.

"Stay with him, awhile?" Anakin asks Jeriya, patting the back of the hand he held gently.  The young healer nodded, seeing the torn expression on her friend's face.

"I will, Anakin.  Don't keep the Senator waiting; I'm sure she has other things to attend to."

With a curt nod, he slipped past them both, out toward where his life-light waited for him…

++++++

                "Invaded another, Dooku has.  Surprised I am that only one and not more he has taken."

                Mace nodded, watching his friend and associate pace the floor before him, a handful of steps really but the _rap, rap, rap of the gimer stick unmistakable._

                "And yet he has not advanced on any of the Core systems…it's almost as if he is waiting for something."

                "Waiting, hmm…Uncertain of this I am.  But understand this, I do: Lies close to several key trade routes this system does.  Weaken the Republic still further this can." Yoda halted his steps and craned his neck to peer up at Windu, who was leaning casually against the wall, arms folded across his chest as was his habit when particularly thoughtful.

                "We aren't in any position to start guarding star-routes." He said slowly.  "Charmadis may prove to be a problem but there are too few of us to start patrolling every heavily traveled trade route to Coruscant even, let alone any of the other major Core Worlds."  The dark-skinned Jedi sighed softly.  "There are too few of us to keep throwing ourselves into this war, but I see no other choice.  Our best hope still lies in a preserved Republic."

                "Clouded, the future is." Yoda sighed heavily now, and hobbled his way over to a small chair in which he sat, laying aside the gimer stick and retraining his gaze on Mace.  "But agree with you I do.  Sense that precarious the position of the Order is."

                "I've felt it too." Mace nodded, uncrossing his arms and stepping closer to drop down into a cross-legged posture on the floor, nearly at eye-level with the diminutive Jedi Master.  "Although Senator Amidala believes our best choice is to support the Alderaanian resolution.  I'm beginning to agree with her."

                "Hmm…abandon the Temple and become soldiers we could, but lose much in the process we would."

                "I don't believe it calls for us to abandon anything, certainly not the Temple.  Not all Jedi would be compelled to serve in the Republic forces.  And of course we would need to continue training the crèche clans and padawans…"

                "Perilous and deceptive this could become; however perhaps right you are and forced into this course of action we will be."  Yoda closed his eyes briefly, a soft sigh escaping the wizened old Master.  "See some merit in it I do but mindful we must be or destroy much of who we are, we will."  The aging but yet clear blue eyes opened once again and fixed on the Jedi sitting before them.  "Spoken with the Senator you have?"

                "Yes, she returned to inform me personally concerning the defeat of the Malastare proposal in the Senate and to inquire after Obi-Wan and Anakin."

                "Hmm…compassionate Senator Amidala is." Yoda agreed, a thoughtfulness coming to his expression.  "Speak with you further on the matter I would but wait now that will.  See to other matters we must."

                Now it was Mace's turn to exhale slowly, heavily, reluctant to speak of those 'other matters' but knowing Yoda was of course correct.  Rising slowly and silently, he gave the green-skinned Jedi a nod of farewell before slipping from those chambers to attend to one of those matters in particular.

                Sitting in the wake of his compatriot's departure, Yoda contemplated another of those matters, singularly more difficult, and picked up his gimer stick thoughtfully.  The Alderaanian vote could wait a little longer; in truth, Dooku's newest planetary invasion could wait on this as well.  There was someplace else his attention must go first, and with a small grunt as he rose from the chair, he proceeded to focus his attention—and his presence—on just that.

++++++

                Padmé was indeed waiting quietly in the small alcove when Anakin entered; she rose at his approach, expression serious and full of ill-concealed concern.  The lanky Jedi padawan turned toward Zaren, and nodded once toward the doorway.

                "It's all right, Zaren. I'll see to the Senator from here."  The young Initiate hesitated a moment, then inclined his head gracefully toward Padmé before departing.  "Are you all right?" Anakin asked almost immediately, guiding his wife back over to the small sofa.  "You look exhausted."

                "I'm fine, Ani." Padmé reassured gently, allowing a small smile to grace her lips.

                "But…?" Anakin allowed the question to hang in the air.  His expression said enough and she shook her head a little bit.

                "No one seemed to know anything at the Hall…I had to come back and see how you were doing…how Master Kenobi is doing."

                Anakin dropped his head a little now, struggling to maintain control of the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to sweep him away.  Everything from heart-wrenching sadness to a deep anger to concerns and regrets washed through him in those moments, and when he looked back up, they were reflected in those deep blue eyes.  Padmé could see it all…worry, fear, frustration…barely controlled anger.  He glanced away again, his expression and voice broken.

                "He's…so sick." He said quietly.  "And no one seems to know how to help him.  I've never, _ever seen him so…weak…before."  Anakin looked over at Padmé again and she could see how shaken he was.  She remembered once more how his mother's death had torn him apart on Tatooine; if he now lost the only man he had ever considered father-figure, how would that affect him?  Tenderly she reached over and clasped his hand.  "He asked me a few days ago if I was afraid to lose him." Anakin said; his gaze on their hands intertwined.  It was almost as if he was reading her mind.  "I never got to explain to him why."_

                "Master Obi-Wan is not one to easily give up, Ani." She said gently, and Anakin swallowed hard.  He hoped that she was right, that his master would not slip away as his mother had.

                "Neither am I." Anakin answered suddenly, and his voice took on a certainty that hadn't been there a moment ago.  "The Council has forbidden me to search for Master Obi-Wan's attacker; you know that."  He looked up into his wife's eyes now, and there was something…determined burning in their deep blue depths.  "I've made a decision, Padmé.  I'm going to Uleare anyway."

                "But…" Worry filled those lovely brown eyes, creased the tender forehead into a tight frown.  "Are you sure that's the best thing to do? After all, if the Council wants you to stay..."

                "I _have to help him!" Anakin said vehemently, nearly pulling his hand away.  "I have to __do something!"  Now he did jerk away, rising sharply to pace a bit.  Padmé watched him quietly now, her eyes never leaving his prowling form._

                "The most important thing for Obi-Wan you can, doing already you are."

                The two young ones turned about to see Yoda approaching them in that slow, deliberate manner of his.

                "What…just sitting around and waiting for him to die?" Anakin snapped, exasperated.

                "No!" Yoda exclaimed, startling the Padawan with his sharpness.  "Strengthen Obi-Wan with your presence you can."  Anakin wavered a moment.  He wasn't sure if he was certain of that, since so far attempts to help through the master/apprentice bond had met with little or no success.  A sudden flash of insight came to him and he narrowed his eyes a bit.

                "But you don't believe he's going to live do you?"  Somehow the apprentice managed to keep his tone free of bitterness or accusation; it was simply a statement of fact.

                "Know this for certain I do not." Yoda sighed softly. "Foreseen his death I have but never constant the future is; know this you do."

                Anakin felt as if he knees would give way any moment, the small green Jedi's words piercing his heart like a 'saber blade.  Tremblingly he sat down again, shaking his head a little.

                "No…no, not Master Obi-Wan." He looked into the wrinkled, frank, but not unkind face.  "You…it must mean something else.  He can't…no."  The apprentice swallowed a bit.  "This is why the Council won't let me go to Uleare, isn't it?  You don't think I can save him."

                "An incorrect assumption this is, Padawan.  Agree with you I do that save your Master you can, but allow you to go we cannot.  Too dangerous this is; invaded another system Dooku has."  Yoda rapped his gimer stick as if to put an end to the matter; Anakin sighed softly and jerked the fingers of his organic hand through closely-cropped sandy blonde locks.  "Speak of this more we must; for now, go to him you should."

The rhythmic rapping of the gimer stick was the only sound that heralded Yoda's departure.  It seemed that the Jedi Master had been simply content to shake his world in that calm, implacable manner; Anakin gazed after him dumbfounded for a moment before he felt a slender hand on his shoulder…Padmé.

                "Ani..." Padmé said by way of encouragement, and she met his gaze.  "You can try."

                "All right…"

                As he stepped back into Obi-Wan's room, Anakin was distressed once more by the alarming appearance of his master.  Obi-Wan lay so still that save the soft sound of respiration, he might have been taken for dead.  His face was ashen and his breathing erratic.

                "Master?" Anakin said softly, reaching down to take a still, feverish hand in his own.  Force, he was burning up!

                Padmé drifted in just past the doorway, watching as Anakin cradled his master's hand.  After a moment, the young man closed his eyes, seeking a place deep within the Force, and opening the bond from his end as fully as he could.  Master…I'm here, Master.

                It was several minutes before there was any sort of response.  But suddenly, just as Anakin was about to try something different, Obi-Wan moaned a little and blinked open his eyes.  Anakin's eyes flew open as well, and he directed them toward his ill mentor.

                "_Anakin?" Obi-Wan murmured.  Anakin's breath hitched in his throat at how little strength was behind Obi-Wan's voice.  A voice that had never once faltered or failed to speak to him, even when he hadn't particularly liked what was being said._

                "Yes, Master.  I'm here." Anakin squeezed Obi-Wan's hand gently, almost as if he was afraid he might break it.  To his surprise, and somewhat relief, Obi-Wan squeezed back.  As with his voice, there was no strength.  But at least this was one of the more rational moments free of febrile hallucination.  "How are you feeling?" Anakin winced the moment he'd spoken; stupid question.

                _Not stupid. Obi-Wan spoke into the bond, again both surprising and pleasing Anakin in the same breath.  __Honest one. Anakin nodded, watching as his master closed his eyes for a long moment, as if focusing solely on the act of drawing breath into his lungs.  When those blue-grey eyes opened again, they were clouded with pain.  "__Not…so good..." He admitted truthfully._

                Through the bond, Anakin got a sense of his master's discomfort and it was considerable.  Impulsively the youth released Obi-Wan's hand and laid his palm on his master's forehead, stretching out through the Force.  Slowly and deliberately he struggled to help Obi-Wan as Jeriya had earlier; after a few moments of hard concentration, he was rewarded to see his master's expression relax a little as the pain dulled somewhat.  "_Thank…you." Obi-Wan breathed out, exhaling as the horrible ache lessened.  Anakin smiled a bit, pleased with being able to do as Master Yoda suggested and finally be of some help to his master._

                "Try to rest, Master." Young Skywalker encouraged, finding himself stroking his master's forehead in a comforting gesture.  A slight smile curved his master's lips for just a moment, a spark of his former self showing up in his eyes.

                "_Just who is…the master around here…anyway?"_

                Anakin recognized the teasing tone, despite the awful weakness of the voice, and he actually laughed a little.

                "Well, until you're well enough to lead me around by this—"He flicked at his Padawan's braid with an artificial finger.  "—you'll just have to accept my authority in this situation."

                Obi-Wan blinked drowsily, exhaustion from the constant battle within combining with his apprentice's appeal nudging him once again toward sleep.  He felt his padawan's cool hand on his forehead again and he had to admit he was grateful Anakin was here.

                "_It's good…you're here, my Padawan." He breathed it out in a soft sigh, and even without opening his eyes he could feel Anakin's smile._

                "I'm glad I am, Master." Anakin continued to stroke gently at his master's forehead and he could begin to sense the soothing effect it was having, drifting his mentor closer to sleep.  "Rest, now."  He watched as Obi-Wan's breathing deepened a little and then the Jedi was asleep.

                Padmé drew closer now, standing at the foot of the ill Jedi's bed, regarding master and apprentice fondly albeit very anxiously.  Anakin looked up at his wife now, and she could see the worry in his eyes.

                "I will help you, Ani." She said quietly, determinedly.  "I'll go to Uleare with you and we'll find a cure for him."

                "We'll go at first light." Anakin said, his eyes drawn back to the sleeping form before him.  "I…I don't want to leave him alone tonight."

                "You're exhausted."  Padmé placed a hand on his shoulder.  "Please…Ani…Get some rest. I'll take the first watch."

                There was an empty repulsor chair in the corner; Anakin threw himself into it although he was sure he would not sleep.  But to Padmé's delight, her husband submitted to his body's demands for rest and dozed off.  Settling into the chair next to Obi-Wan's sickbed, she took up the vigil…

                "_No…no…not…Master!"_

                Padmé startled awake to hear the soft murmurings of her husband's master, and she leaned forward instantly.  Anakin had not wakened; his exhaustion had been complete.  On the bed, Obi-Wan turned his head weakly, moaning.  After a moment she realized that his feverish dreams had turned to the death of Qui-Gon Jinn all those years ago, and she bit her lip.  Gently she laid a hand against his face, gasping a little at the amount of heat she felt radiating through pale skin.  She could only wonder at the hellish burden this must have been for Obi-Wan, to have been so close and yet so far from his closest friend and mentor in the hour of his need, unable to go to his aid, helplessly watching him die.

                Her heart further stirred within her as she suddenly became aware of a single tear, squeezed out of his closed eyes to trail back along his temple as his delirious mumblings continued.  Padmé looked at Anakin and shook her head determinedly.  She would not allow Ani to suffer the same fate as his master in suffering such a helpless loss.

                "Master Kenobi." She murmured softly, hoping to draw the ill Jedi from his nightmares.  "Please…Obi-Wan."  She moved her hand to his forehead, again feeling the burning fever that was draining the life from her friend.  Padmé could not reach to him as her husband could, but she continued to speak soothingly, hoping that he would awaken.

                Obi-Wan felt the last remnants of the nightmare slip away, and somewhere above him…he thought he could hear…singing?  No…not singing but a soft voice at least.  He felt strangely disconnected, as if he'd been tossed adrift on a restless sea.  Cold.  He was so cold.  Almost as the thought came to him he trembled.  The voice above him continued gently and he found himself drawn to it for some reason unknown to him.

                Slowly he flicked his eyelids open, and it all rushed back in on him, the mission to Uleare, the glass, the illness now coursing through him and the pain.  _Force…_

                "_Master?" He murmured, the last of his dream fleeing as Qui-Gon's life had in his arms all those years ago, swiftly and uncontrollably._

                "No, Master Kenobi…it's me, Padmé."

                Recognition finally dawned on him and as he frowned a little in concentration, the Senator's lovely features slowly focused in his vision.  He was suddenly aware of her hand on his forehead, much like his padawan's had been earlier, her thumb stroking along his skin as if all that was needed was a soft touch to make everything all right again.

                He swallowed a little, his throat dry as dust.  Padmé took note, and a moment later she was back at his side with a small cup in her hand.  Getting her other arm behind his shoulders, she raised his head so he could sip at the liquid within.  "Slowly…just a little bit.  Your stomach won't be ready for much."

                It was only water but Padmé was right; as its coldness hit his stomach, he had to swallow and fight off the urge to vomit it right back up.  Somehow he managed to keep it down and he closed his eyes.  He felt himself being eased back down onto the pillows and he exhaled slowly.  He was shivering again, unable to control the chills that swept through his fever-wracked body.

                Padmé looked down at him tenderly; he had proven to be a good and kind friend and it disturbed her to see him so ill and…fragile.  She reached up to a nearby shelf, retrieving another blanket and gently draping it over him, satisfied when his trembling seemed to lessen.  Impulsively she leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead.

                Obi-Wan blinked up at her, confusion registering in his eyes.

                "_What…was that for?"_

                "It carries my hope for your recovery." She said simply, and it was enough.  They both knew the gravity of his illness; if there was no cure found, it would slowly tear him apart cell by cell as the midi-chlorians were decimated inside of him.  Already, Obi-Wan reflected, his link to the Force was severely impaired.  That he had felt Anakin at all earlier had been more the result of the efforts of the student rather than the teacher.  More than death itself he feared the loss of the Force; the idea of being made "blind" and alone in his sufferings was almost more than he could bear.  Unwilling to present that sort of uncertainty to anyone, least of all a Galactic Senator, Kenobi merely ghosted a small smile of thanks.  "Go back to sleep."  Padmé settled back quietly into the chair to keep her watch as Obi-Wan dozed once more.

                "Is he all right?"

                Anakin's soft voice from the chair in the darkened corner made her stand up again so she could see him.

                "Just a bad dream." She said softly.

                _Dreams pass with time.  Master Obi-Wan's admonition drifted up from his memory, those lightly accented words seeking to soothe when all they had done at that point was irritate him; he couldn't __help how he felt.  Anakin sighed softly, suddenly wishing he could take that irritation back.  __I only hope this nightmare passes so easily, my Master._

++++++

                Flames.  Heat.  Sweet incense.  And a heavy silence that blankets everything like a pallid shadow, the smoke from the pyre rising like the sweet spirit that had long fled to the Force.

                Luminara's body, the comely shell that had encased that bright soul, succumbed slowly to the flames' interminable hunger, a fine ash of incense and cloth and flesh and bone left behind, a silent testimony to what would no longer ever be.

                Silence, but not griefless.  Tears fell but quietly, some of them Barriss Offee's, some of them Adi Gallia's…many of them hidden from view, all of them borne out of the sad loss presented to the Order this day.  The breaking of the master-apprentice bond had shaken Barriss to the core; it would be weeks before the young padawan would be ready to complete her training under a different mentor.

                At the back of the chamber, a lone figure slips in silently, hood tugged low, hands tucked beneath the wide robe sleeves.  Of all the Jedi present, he is the one who most rapidly hones in on that broken young padawan and the waves of pain that fairly roll off the girl into the air around her, a siren scream of the soul that could not be ignored.  He had known that scream once before, stood next to it while fine ash filled another funeral pyre, smelled the unholy smoke, and tasted the grief.

                He knows that this might be his to experience.  But not today.  Today he drinks in the pain of another so he can remember what it is that he is fighting for, why he must follow his heart above all else…why he cannot risk standing next to another one of these pyres ever again if he can help it.

                He stands forlorn and alone in the back for several minutes, honoring the lost Luminara, honoring her padawan who must now go on without her, and honoring his own master, who would have to understand what he would now do.

                Near the front, not far from Barriss herself, a short wizened Master standing near an aisle observed the tall padawan make his escape back the way he'd come, and a soft slow sigh joins the smoke and incense rising to the open-vented ceiling above to mingle with the sadness of the stars.


	18. No Solace In The Dawn

Update! In the words of our favorite protocol droid: "Here we go again."  A few little twists along the way…hope you enjoy!  :D

= Thoughts transmitted through the master/apprentice bond.

 EIGHTEEN

                There was no solace in the dawn.

                Standing quietly by the transparisteel window observing the sunrise while both his wife and his master slept, Anakin hunched his shoulders a bit and clasped his hands behind him.  This had always been _his time, ever since he was small watching twin sunrises blistering the far horizon on Tatooine, heralding another day in Watto's parts shop.  Here it was just something approaching a steady haze in the pre-dawn, planet-wide industrialization having done much to distort what should have been spectacular.  This was the time and space in which he ordered his thoughts, dreamed his daydreams, and remembered that which should never be forgotten…in short it was his chance to breathe._

                Shmi still existed in those hazy early morning hours.  He remembered his mother like a song in the pre-dawn.  Padmé's stolen kisses lingered in those precious moments when darkness just began to give way to the breaking of the first rays over the horizon.  Dreams of what it would be like to be a Knight like his Master, strong and steady, freeing…freeing people, doing the true work of a Jedi Knight.  Keeping the peace instead of just watching it go by.

                This morning, however, none of that seemed to exist. Only a slow, painful, lonely sensation, a burning ache, seemed to fill this day's pale grey nascence.  The burden of decision—and consequences; this would be no easy daybreak to face.  Quietly Anakin gathered himself, steeling himself almost, for the moment that was at hand.  When he turned, she was watching him, brown eyes still drowsy.  He offered Padmé a small smile then, meant to be reassuring.  Two steps and he was at Obi-Wan's bedside, the elder Jedi finally resting somewhat more peacefully than he had been, thanks to another half-dose of pain medication administered some few hours ago.

                Anakin looked down at the sleeping Jedi's features, blinking a little, struggling to stay collected.  Finally he leaned down until his forehead rested against Obi-Wan's, knowing that the drugged sleep would not allow the poisoned Knight to even be aware of his presence, let alone this touch.  He held the moment just a little longer, wishing he could say…what?  So much.  Too much.  And now time would not allow him—at least not now, not this sunrise.

                "I'll come home soon, I promise." He whispered, even though Obi-Wan would never hear.  "Goodbye, Master.  May the Force be with you."

++++++

                Dhalis II was another relatively easy prize to claim; however this time Dooku did not intend to allow it to return to the Republic.  After all, in a war, battles are lost as well as won, no?  And they were, after all, only clones.  No soul, no spark, nothing to distinguish them as beings blessed of the Force.  No, they weren't even like the simple peasants that littered the countryside of this planet's western continent like the girl that lay crumpled at his feet, sightless eyes gazing up in the shock and fear that had comprised her last conscious thoughts.

                She might have been beautiful, Dooku paused long enough to think, realizing the jaggedly shorn locks that still remained must have been spun gold and long, the now dulled eyes once blue and vivacious.  Perhaps this one would have been a singer of songs, or a dancer of dances; she had been young that was certain.

                Like this world that was quickly coming under his control—once young, once pristine, once fresh. Now trampled, now invaded, now bloodstained.  Dooku was not at all certain that this was the legacy he wished to leave behind, but he knew that sometimes a little revolution also meant a little bloodshed.

                He was not, he told himself firmly, above a little bloodshed.  After all, how many times had he had to "negotiate" his treaties at the end of a lightsaber?  How many battles had he fought in as a "noble Knight" with his Padawan Qui-Gon Jinn at his side, spouting all that drivel that seemed to keep the Jedi blind to the truth?

                Jinn had chosen not to follow him that day.

                What made him think of it now, he did not know; perhaps that it was the fact that his master was slowly torturing to death Qui-Gon's onetime padawan, who in the analogy of bloodlines could conceivably be reckoned as his grandson.  Dooku nearly laughed aloud at that.  Proud, stubborn, gloriously honorable Obi-Wan.  Blind as the rest of them, he mused to himself.  And yet…

                He'd seen it in the prison on Geonosis, marveled at it inwardly although he allowed himself to maintain that outer calm that he had been so good at showing to Qui-Gon Jinn.  Kenobi carried a…_grace in the Force that he had yet to see matched in anyone, including that all-powerful nosy troll, Yoda.  That said, despite overpowering the young Knight in the cliffside hangar and rendering him in need of rescue by the aforementioned troll, Dooku had to admit to a small bloom of jealousy.  Like any other 'natural,' that grace simply flowed from Obi-Wan like a brook without the ginger-headed Jedi ever having to coerce it or even be truly conscious of it._

                Now _there was a prize.  Chosen One or not, Anakin Skywalker was merely a stripling, a wealth of raw ability but none of his master's easy finesse.  Obi-Wan Kenobi, on the other hand, would have made a handsome trophy for Dooku's master.  The wind now stirring his cloak behind him, the Count couldn't help but wonder what sort of circumstance that would have taken to arrange.  Ah well…too late for such musings now; if all followed Lord Sidious' machinations, it would not be much longer before Kenobi was dead anyway and the boy made the prize.  Such a shame, such a pitiful waste…_

                With the toe of his boot, Dooku turned the body of the girl over, not wishing to see those emptily staring eyes gazing skyward; it seemed at him, a silent accusation.  Someday, girl, you will all understand that _this is the true nature of the Force._

++++++

                The first order of business was to come away to a place where they could speak freely; even outside of the Temple Anakin kept a tight rein on his shields; no one must know what they were about to do.  His hand at Padmé's elbow, he guided her through the orderly maze of speeders toward his favorite.  It would be nothing unusual for him to see her back to the Hall of Naboo; after all he had informed Zaren that he would look after her.

                "Over here." He said softly, taking one last turn.  All else could wait until they were airborne and had cleared the speeder bay.  Helping her climb inside, his hands at her waist, he couldn't help but grin a little.  Padmé swatted his shoulder.

                "Stop that.  What if someone sees you?" She whispered.  He laughed a little.

                "All right, so that wasn't the most gentlemanly way to see a Galactic Senator into a speeder cockpit."  The grin broadened for just a moment as she settled herself.  Then he thought once more of what they were doing, and it faded slowly like melting snow in the Naboo highlands.  "Are you sure you want to do this, Padmé?  It could get very ugly, very fast."  Anakin's expression tensed now, his eyes wide and serious.  "It's bad enough that I may lose Master Obi-Wan.  If something were to happen to you too…"

                Padmé reached over and placed her fingertips briefly against his warm lips, allowing a small smile of her own despite any concern over being seen.

                "Ani…I'm not going to let this be just your fight.  Master Kenobi is my friend, and you are my husband.  My place is with you.  I am going…whether I'm beside you or I have to catch up to you.  But I _am going to Uleare."_

                Anakin nodded once, the matter settled; one thing he had learned about his wife was that she was nearly as strong and stubborn as he.  They had faced Geonosis together…they would face Uleare together.  Coming around and jumping into the speeder cockpit, he fired up the controls and carefully steered the small transport away from the bay.

                "We have to do this as quickly and quietly as possible." Anakin said once they were airborne and headed in the direction of the Hall.  He glanced at Padmé briefly before executing a sharp hairpin turn that left her somewhere between breathless and thrilled.  He laughed suddenly at her expression.  "Master Obi-Wan _hates that."_

                "We could use unregistered transport." Padmé suggested.  "Like we did to go to Naboo."

                Anakin seemed to consider that a moment, his blue eyes focused on the traffic ahead as he weaved his way in and out of sky-lanes effortlessly.

                "No." He finally answered.  "It's still too risky.  If it's discovered that we're _both gone, they'll check __everything.  And there __are ways to track unregistered transport.  Trust me…"  Anakin favored her with a small smile he certainly did not feel.  "…I know most of them.  No, we've got to get off-world a lot quieter than that."  He shifted a little; suddenly almost nervous.  "I was thinking we could find a smuggler."_

                "A smuggler? Here on Coruscant?"

                "Sure."  Anakin replied easily.  "Master Obi-Wan says you can find anything on Coruscant; you just have to know where to look."

                "And you do?  Know where to look?" Padmé's eyebrows came up in a mixed expression of surprise and dismay.

                "Yes." Anakin expertly maneuvered them between a larger transport and another speeder, his razor-edge accuracy no worse for having his attention divided.  "I think.  There are nym-jet races down in the Interior.  They're not as fast as pods but the course is a lot harder."

                "You're still racing?" Padmé's eyes widened a bit, a small thrill of nervousness.

                "Just a couple of times.  Master Obi-Wan…doesn't particularly approve." Anakin shrugged a little.  "Anyhow…the Interior is where all the stickheads, spice-addicts and speedrats hang out.  I'm sure there's a pilot or two with them who'll be more than happy to make a few extra credits."

                "I'm coming with you." Padmé said impulsively, and Anakin shook his head sharply.

                "No. No way.  It's too dangerous.  If any of those freaks down there realizes who you are…"

                "Then they just can't recognize me then." She shrugged slightly. "Sabé and I have been trading clothes and stations for years.  I'll have her stand in my stead in the Senate…we have a special coded frequency that only we two can access.  And I'm sure she has something that will make me…inconspicuous."

                It was against his better judgment, but Anakin could sense that there would be no arguing with her.  Truth be told, while he was worried about keeping her safe, he was also somewhat relieved that he wasn't taking this on alone.  While his wife was compassionate and caring, she was also infinitely level-headed and would keep him grounded when he needed it; Anakin had the feeling that with the kind of undertaking this was liable to be, he was going to be grateful for that.

                Their time in the Hall was hurried and hushed; Padmé and Sabé quickly arranged the details of their exchange, Padmé taking a change of clothing, a comlink, and as many credits as she could.  Anything else would have to be forgone or picked up on the way; there was precious little time for anything else.

                "Be careful, milady." Sabé whispered as they parted company on the high side of the Hall, where Anakin had concealed the speeder.

                "We'll return as soon as we can, Sabé."  Padmé embraced her handmaiden and friend briefly.

                "May the Force be with you." Anakin said quietly, promising Sabé that he would protect her lady with his life.

                The Interior was definitely not a place to tread lightly; almost from the instant Anakin piloted the small speeder into the bowels of the city Padmé could feel the eyes on them, watching, sizing them up.  Instinctively she slid down a little in the seat to conceal herself.  It was rough down here; indeed as Anakin had said the dregs of Coruscant society hid in little pockets, small gangs, the underbelly of civilization thriving here as it did on most worlds.  The only difference was the fact that generational layers of construction hid it a lot better than on those other planets.

                Finally Anakin brought them to a stop, and made the little speeder as secure and concealed as he could; what he did not tell Padmé was that he knew their only way out of here would be with a successful hiring of a pilot.  By the time they would be back, the speeder would either be cannibalized for parts or outright stolen.

                They continued on foot to a seedy looking structure that Anakin knew somewhat rather well.  It was the hidden makeshift hangar bay for the nym-jets; their pilots and techs, such as they were, lounged around.  Some slept, some tinkered with parts, and others simply drank themselves into oblivion during the daylight hours.  It wasn't until nighttime on Coruscant that they ventured out to run their races, carouse and generally cause havoc in the lower levels.

                "Ah, ah…Kimshe.  Back for another try at the races, are you?"  A tall—taller than Anakin even—spindly youth asked mischievously, shrugging off the nubile Twi'lek who had been clinging to him rather suggestively.  "Still looking for kicks against Rumo, hey?"

                "No, not today, sorry.  I'm looking for Topper. You see him around down here lately?" Anakin asked loosely.  Rumo was a good racer, a challenge…but he could not afford to get sidetracked today.

                "Topper?  Nah, that's no good.  Got into it with one of those spice-brains.  They were really jet, y'know?  Had a nice operation selling to the young Nabbies up above.  Until she decided he didn't need his share of the credits and cut his spice one night with somethin' nasty.  Stiff as a board ten minutes later, I'm tellin' ya."

                "That's too bad." Anakin said carefully, gauging the veracity of the tall boy before him.  "I was gonna hand him some money."  The youthful Jedi shrugged.  "So who's running the races then anyway?"

                The temptation of a few more credits was more than Rumo could resist; gathering the Twi'lek close to him again in one arm he smiled toothily.

                "Ah, Kimshe, that would be me."

                "Really now.  Well that could prove to be quite fortunate, Rumo." Anakin withdrew a small pouch filled with credits from the folds of his tunic.

                "Could it, now?  Ah, ah.  Kimshe whatever you want I can find."

                "What I want, is a pilot." Anakin weighed his words carefully.  "Preferably one that isn't listed with Spaceport Authority and isn't loaded on spice."

                "Ah, Kimshe what you ask is dangerous indeed.  The rats don't go highside for free, y'know."

                "You don't need to bargain with me." Anakin barely moved a finger, but the line he cast out into the Force was inescapable.

                "I don't need to bargain with you."

                "You can direct us to the pilots we seek."

                "Let me tell you where directly you'll find them, Kimshe."  Rumo was no worse for wear and a few credits considerably richer by the time Anakin and Padmé left his company.

                It was even a more run-down, built-over part of the city's layers than the speedrat lairs; Anakin slowed his pace a little to allow Padmé to better keep up with his longer strides so they would remain close.  For her part, hidden beneath a hooded robe not unlike Anakin's own, Padmé merely wrinkled her nose at the stench and hurried to keep pace with her husband.

                They didn't have far to walk before they were met by two rangy-looking humans, one a male about Anakin's height and the other a female almost as tall, with auburn hair to nearly the middle of her back.  Both of them were armed, their blasters easily held in hands that obviously were very comfortable with the weapons.

                "Look at what we have here." The male said with a small whistle.  "Pair of highsiders pokin' around where highsiders are not welcome."

                "I'm looking for a pilot." Anakin explained immediately, not eager for a confrontation down here.

                "A specific pilot or will just any one do?" The female spoke up now, and the disdain in her voice was evident.

                "One who'd like enough credits to keep him in spice for the next three months." Anakin replied easily now, really beginning to warm to this bargaining.

                "Well now.  That's a rather generous offer." The male stepped forward a little now, but Anakin was well aware that the female was keeping him covered.  Sudden recognition dawned on the man's face and he laughed a little.  "You're that scrawny little jet-demon that's been coming down here to play with the rodents.  How is old Topper doing these days?"

                "He's dead." Anakin answered simply without embellishment.  It was just a test he knew.  The other man nodded.

                "Well he never said anything about marking time with a Jedi." The blaster was motioned easily at Anakin's robes.  "They generally aren't the sort to come down here and place bets on the nym races, let alone take part in them.  What's your game, jet-demon?"

                "Look if you really want to make trouble…" Anakin allowed his hand to stray toward his 'saber and the other man laughed.

                "All right, all right." The man was clearly amused as if he could see right through them both.  "Lera, take 'em on up. I'm sure they can—"

                "Knock it off, womprats." A stern voice called out as another human male entered the hallway.  He was also tall, and given his facial features Anakin figured he was Corellian.  Force knew that if there was money to be made, legally or not, a Corellian most likely had his sticky fingers in it.  "Don't you have a brain Jash or did you smoke it into deep space again?  This is Chancellor Palpatine's pet Jedi.  Leave 'im alone."  At Anakin's startled look, the Corellian laughed.  "Oh you'd be surprised what we know about down here jet-boy.  We might just be a bunch of spicers and speedrats but trust me we've got a finger in just about every club and legalized spice-house on the planet.  We hear about everything."

                The Corellian regarded the pair a moment longer almost as if sizing them up and deciding what to do with them.  "C'mon." He finally beckoned them to follow and led them down a set of rickety winding stairs.  The chamber they ended up in was small, dimly lit and dirty but with a certain air about it; somewhat disorganized but after the manner of one who knew in that disorganization exactly where _everything was._

                "What do you hear about an assassin hired to kill Jedi?" Anakin asked pointedly as he came down the last few of the steps.  The rangy Corellian glanced back over his shoulder as he proceeded further into the room, an expression both curious and intrigued.

                "Thought you wanted a pilot, boy.  Information is extra."  He motioned to a somewhat scattered-looking table and chairs in the corner.  "Have a seat.  Tell me your tale, Jedi."

                Padmé glanced over nervously; Anakin made a small calming motion with his natural hand and indicated that she should do as the Corellian bade them.  Slowly they both sat, Anakin's senses trained on their surroundings, stretching out into the Force and listening carefully for any indication of deception or danger.

                "Tell me who you are first.  It's only polite for introductions to be made." Anakin kept an easy air about him, trying to imitate his master's relaxed manner of speaking and mediation.

                "Names later.  Keep your hands on the table, Jedi and no tricks." The Corellian ordered.  "I don't have any particular desire to see how those lightsabers of yours work."  He eyed the silent Padmé for a moment.  "What've you got?"

                "Passage to Uleare in the Charmadis Sector.  _Quiet.  No one finds out, got it?" Anakin hesitates a moment, unsure if what he has is enough for a man like this.  "Ten."_

                "Charmadis? You're crazy.  Anybody tell you there's a war goin' on out there?"  The Corellian frowned heavily but when the young Jedi across from him refused to drop his gaze, he sighed a little.  "Ten thousand is good to get you there but it won't get you any extras."

                "Like what we need to know." Padmé spoke up for the first time now, although she remained mostly concealed by the hood she wore.  "Two thousand more for the information."

                "Twelve, hmm?  Not bad, not bad."  The pilot nodded, scratching at his chin.  "Okay, that's fair.  The unofficial word is that your friend is working for somebody with some _credits…I've heard a few figures bein' kicked around and if they're even __close to his true hiring price he's making a rather nice profit for knocking off Jedi."_

                "Well then I'd say he isn't worth his price because he hasn't killed any." Anakin stated firmly.  _Yet.  He thought to himself._

                "You'd be wasting your breath, Jedi. He's killed two.  Some pair on a peace mission in the mid-Rim somewhere."

                _So I was right.  What I said to Master Yoda was exactly right…Master Obi-Wan was poisoned to keep him from investigating the deaths of Master Varou and Padawan Rhe.  Anakin thought instantly, and he straightened a little.  "So do I have a ship or what?"_

                "Here." A datachip was dropped on the table.  "Meet me there outside the capitol district in two hours; the location is on that." The Corellian stood up and appraised them frankly, especially Padmé.  "And bring your money, Senator."

                "Who are you?" Padmé spoke up once more, watching as Anakin pocketed the datachip.  "You seem to have us at a disadvantage."  The pilot laughed a little before nodding a bit and spreading his hands modestly.

                "Like I said, I hear about everything.  Name's Solo. Khavi Solo."

++++++

                "Easy…easy Obi-Wan.  Just lie still…"

                Despite the fact that he likely didn't have the strength necessary to stand on his own two feet let alone try to get anywhere under his own power, Obi-Wan tried once more to sit up against the firm grip of Healer Obuk at his shoulders.

                "_No…nn...no!" He gritted out between shaky breaths.  "__You don't…you…don't under…stand.  Anakin…Anakin…"_

                "He's not right here, Obi-Wan." Obuk said gently, for about the fourth time now.  He glanced up as Jeriya appeared in the doorway, sent to retrieve Kenobi's apprentice, and she merely shook her head silently.  "We'll bring him to you." The healer continued to placate.  Obi-Wan's expression became anguished, one hand coming up to grasp Obuk's sleeve tightly.

                "_He's…not…he's not…here…" Kenobi repeated, and Obuk nodded._

                "No, he's not but we'll…"

                "_No…Obuk…he…Anakin is…not…here!  __I can't feel him!"_

                Obuk's breath caught in his throat as he suddenly understood the reason behind the ailing Knight's panic.  The master-apprentice bond at Obi-Wan's end was weakening… The healer had known it would come eventually; too much damage had been done to the midichlorians in the Jedi's system.

                "Obi-Wan…no.  Lie down…" Obuk pressed gently at his patient's shoulders.  Exhausted, Obi-Wan reluctantly obeyed, a small mournful groan slipping out.  "We'll get Anakin for you.  All right?"  Finally after a long moment, Obi-Wan nodded his agreement and exhaled slowly, closing his eyes.  After a watchful moment, making sure Kenobi would indeed stay put, Obuk crossed over to where Jeriya stood.

                "I've looked everywhere." She offered quietly before the question could even be asked.  "He's not anywhere in the Ward.  The last I knew he was speaking to Senator Amidala out there." Jeriya motioned in the general direction of the waiting area.  "But that was hours ago."

                "Find him.  He can't be far off." Obuk too kept his voice low so as not to add to Obi-Wan's upset.

                "_Anakin...Anakin..."_

                Obuk glanced back over his shoulder briefly; Obi-Wan's distressed calls for his apprentice continued but he didn't make any effort to move.  The healer touched his one-time apprentice's arm briefly.  "Hurry."

++++++

                The speeder, as Anakin had figured, was a lost cause; they returned to what essentially amounted to a shell.  But Khavi's copilot Jash had a little skimmer of his own; Anakin could tell from the feel of it as it went up that it had been tinkered with.  There was a certain "home-made" feeling to its handling that reminded him of his podracer back on Tatooine.  The disadvantage to the skimmer was the cramped quarters; at best the little transport was designed to handle two relatively small passengers; three required a bit of creative maneuvering.  Which basically amounted to Padmé being somewhat sandwiched between the two pilots.

                "This is…cozy." Jash remarked slyly, which earned him a hard glare from Anakin but nothing more as Jash chuckled and guided his homespun craft up into the upper levels of Coruscant.  "Any place in particular you want to go?  Back to your temple maybe?"

                "No!" Anakin answered perhaps a little too sharply, and he exhaled slowly.  "I mean, we don't need to stop back there.  Just drop us off in the Toevah District and we'll find our way back to your hangar bay."

                "Works for me. Just don't be late.  Khavi's a deadline type, y'know?"

                "Pretty particular, for a smuggler." Padmé remarked, and Jash laughed a little.

"Oh there are a lot of things about Khavi Solo that are pretty particular."

                "Like his price." Anakin grumbled a little beneath his breath, but that went unheard or at least uncommented on by their driver.  Several long minutes in silence later, Jash guided the little skimmer in for a smooth hover near a pedestrian walkway, allowing his passengers to disembark.

                "Sure you don't wanna jet around for a bit, sweetspice?" The comment is directed at Padmé; the answer comes from Anakin.

                "She's sure.  Don't worry about us; we'll be on time."

                "Suit yourself." Jash shrugged a bit and lifted off, jetting back along the route he'd come.  Anakin breathed out a small exasperated sigh.

                "You're jealous." Padmé's eyes fixed on him playfully. Anakin turned his gaze on her, opening his mouth for a rejoinder when suddenly the deep blue eyes widened, and the color fled from his face.  For a moment the young padawan couldn't catch his breath, mouth still open as if to speak, a small choking sound at the back of his throat and then he turned away, squeezing his eyes shut as his breath came in short, sharp gasps.  "Ani?  What is it?  _Ani."_

                "It's…" Anakin choked out, his left hand coming up to briefly scrub across his forehead.  "I…"

                "Ani…" Padmé came around her husband's side, taking his hand and pulling it toward her.  "What's wrong?"

                "It's..." Anakin fought to even his breathing, to find that calm center Master Obi-Wan always told him to seek first, foremost.  "It's Master Obi-Wan…something…something's wrong…"

                The young Jedi wheeled around, instinctively facing in the direction of the capitol district; even here the highest spires of the Temple could be faintly seen.  Narrowing his eyes a little in concentration, Anakin raised the mental shields he knew would be necessary to conceal his current plan of action and then carefully snaked out a tendril of thought into the bond he shared with his master—

                Only to run into a brick wall…literally a dead-end.  Anakin could sense Master Obi-Wan, could feel that he was in distress but couldn't…complete the connection, so to speak, like a faulty circuit.  It was as if the bond was being doubled back on itself; without being totally severed, contact with his master was being prevented…

                _Being prevented.  Anakin drew in another trembling breath.  __Oh, Force no.  Master Obi-Wan can't sense me at all.  The realization slammed into Anakin that Obi-Wan had lost all sense of the training bond, and he swallowed hard.  The slow-down the healers had made in the toxin's progression was not nearly slow enough…not nearly...it was breaking his master._

                "Ani?" Padmé's voice again, soft.  "Do you want to go back?  Are you having second thoughts?"

                Second thoughts…

                Anakin shook his head a little, closing his eyes.

_What is it that you know deep inside that you can't ignore?_

                _If I don't try to help him, Master Obi-Wan is going to die._

                _Are you having second thoughts?_

                "Let's…go." Anakin finally placed his hand at Padmé's elbow and steered her surreptitiously into a small establishment to escape the curious stares of passersby.  Despite being Coruscant citizens, many of them down here had never laid eyes on a Jedi before and as on several other worlds, ignorance bred all sorts of wild rumors and often contempt.

                "We're closed…what do you think, we don't need time to clean the place up after you Nabbies wreck it every night, or…" The club's proprietor approached them gruffly, a short but slender humanoid of a species somewhat familiar to Anakin although the name escaped him.  Anakin looked directly at him, seriousness in his expression that the short barkeep recognized instantly.  "_Jedi… Of all the Voices of Saros…What do you want with me, Jedi?"_

                "Just a quiet table and no interruptions for awhile." Anakin replied somberly.  "I'll make it worth your while."

                The bartender nodded and motioned loosely for them to follow.

                "We don't get your kind in here every day, you know."  With one of six tentacle-like appendages, he wiped off the indicated table and with two more he pulled out the chairs to either side for Anakin and Padmé to sit.  "I'll get you a plate of carices."

                "Thank you." Anakin waited while Padmé settled herself, and then took the seat opposite her, turning it around to straddle it, resting his arms against its back and then his chin on his wrist.  Padmé watched him for a long moment before reaching out toward him with a slender hand.

                "It's harder than you thought it'd be, isn't it?" She said quietly, more a statement than a question, and after a brief hesitation, Anakin nodded silently.

                "I don't want to leave him alone…you saw how bad it is, how much pain he's in." He replied, his gaze on the tabletop in front of him.  "And even if I do go, what chance does he have?  You heard Master Yoda…he _saw Master Obi-Wan die…"_

                "I don't pretend to understand Jedi visions or their explanations, but I do remember Master Yoda telling you that the future is not yet written." Padmé watched Anakin's eyes; he still had not raised his gaze from the table but she could see a wealth of emotion written in those dark blue irises.  "Master Kenobi's best chance right now lies with you.  Whether you stay at his side or go to find this assassin, Anakin…Obi-Wan's life is yours to save.  Master Yoda agreed with that as well."

                Anakin did raise his gaze now, past his wife's shoulder out the window, back toward the direction of the Jedi Temple before allowing his attention to be drawn back to her lovely, concerned features.  He allowed a shadow of a smile to appear before reaching over to take the hand that still lay palm up on the table.

                "I won't fail him, Padmé.  I promise."

++++++

                "Next stop, Uleare." Khavi Solo announced to his passengers as he sauntered back from the cockpit of his small cargo ship, the _Silver Sunrise.  "We've made the jump; I hope you don't mind the close-quarters since it's a bit of trip."  His audience of two were currently pulling off the webbing of their jump-chairs and getting more comfortable.  Khavi leaned back against the near bulkhead and folded his arms across his chest, regarding them curiously.  "I say we get a little more acquainted.  Like…you tell me what this is about before we park ourselves in the middle of that battlegroup out there or something.  So…what's your story, Jedi?"_

                "I don't have one." Anakin replied a bit tightly, looking up from the jump-chair, and Khavi grinned.

                "Sure you do.  And I bet it's a good one, too."  The pilot ran fingers roughened by repair work through thick dark hair, leaving some of it standing up on end a bit.  "Spin me a tale, Jedi; I've got the time.  What're you doing running around a war with a Galactic senator of all things?"

                "I thought you heard about everything." Padmé removed the cloak she had been wearing and placed it in the jump-chair next to her.  Khavi grinned again at that, and then outright laughed.

                "Okay, you got me there Senator.  Maybe not _everything but most things."  Dark brown eyes swept over the pair again, watchfully.  "I'm just trying to look out for my people."_

                "You agreed to the charter; isn't it a little late to be asking for details?" Anakin shot back, a frown creasing his youthful expression.  "It's Jedi business.  That's enough for you."

                "_Jedi business?  Oh no," Khavi chuckled lightly. "I don't think so.  See…I know that whatever it is you're up to, it's not sanctioned by your prissy Council, or else you wouldn't be paying the likes of me to haul you and your laser sword into the middle of a battle zone."  Jaded eyes narrowed a little, a perceptive expression appearing.  "You're after that hired gun you asked me about, aren't you?  What'd he do, kill your girlfriend or somethin'?"_

                "Jedi don't have girlfriends." Anakin replied steadily, despite the fact that his _wife was sitting next to him.  __Jedi, he reflected with a soft sigh, __don't have those either._

                "Maybe not, but I'm not one of those weak-minded idiots you can fool with, pal.  This isn't exactly going to be a vacation and I just want to know what I'm getting into."  Solo crossed over and dropped himself easily into the jump-chair at Anakin's right and lounged a little bit.  "Besides, I might be able to help you out, you never know."

                "For a price, I'm sure." Anakin raised an eyebrow and the Corellian chuckled a little bit.

                "Nah, this one's on me, Jedi."

                "All right." Anakin held the other man's gaze a moment, stretching out toward him with a thin tendril of the Force.  He sensed no deception; despite the smuggler's conniving nature, he was being genuine enough with them.  "My master was poisoned by this assassin and I'm trying to rescue him.  If he _is the same person who killed the Jedi on Uleare, then it's logical my investigation would start there."_

                "Fair enough." Khavi Solo nodded once.  "Well I thought you might like to know a little bit about the place we're going before we actually get there.  Uleare isn't exactly paradise but it has its good points."

                "Such as…?" Padmé prompted.

                "Oh such as one of the richest deposits of kelde ore in the Mid-Rim.  Rumor has it that somebody is particularly interested in the mining operations on the Uleare moons.  Not exactly talking about pocket change there, y'know?"

                "Interested?  What do you mean?" Anakin asked as he stretched in the jump-chair.

                "Heard one of the bigger convoys got hit up awhile back.  Professional observation but they were a bit sloppy with their boarding techniques, left a bit of a mess.  Part of the colonists' gripe with the Republic, by the way, was some fuss over safe shipping lanes." Khavi shrugged a bit.  "They're sick of their operations being disrupted.  Part of the reason why your murdered Jedi were sent there I bet."

                "And this…_somebody who hit the convoy is of interest to us how?"_

                "This somebody has the credits to throw around for an operation like that.  They're using mercenaries, fringers, ex-intelligence types…lots of the major warrant-action variety if you follow me."  Khavi motioned loosely with one hand.  Gradually understanding dawned in Anakin's expression.

                "The same somebody with the credits to hire an assassin to take out Jedi, maybe?" Skywalker pressed a bit, and Solo shrugged a little.

                "Maybe.  I don't have all the details on that, Jedi.  Maybe it's a long shot but it's better than none at all."

                Their conversation was interrupted by a loud squeal and a delighted giggle as a small child no more than four standard years tumbled out into the ship's small common area.  Khavi laughed a little bit as the girl was followed by Lera, who scooped the little one up and tickled her, then wandered back with her squirming armful toward her crew cabin once more.

                "A child on a smuggling ship?" Padmé said incredulously.  "Seems to me a harsh way to grow up."

                "There are harsher ways on Corellia, trust me." Solo said seriously, and then shrugged.  "Lera's a good mother.  There's nothing she wouldn't do for her little girl."

                "So what's your story then, Captain?" Anakin prompted a bit, a light of curiosity burning in his eyes.  "Is she yours?"

                "You're awfully forward for a Jedi." Solo said casually, but his look was pointed.

                "Fair is fair." Anakin shrugged just as casually.  The smuggler actually hesitated a moment, glancing away…

                "I have a boy." He finally said.  "Somewhere, on Corellia.  I didn't even know about him until his mother was killed during a…territory dispute over a spice route."  Khavi blinked a little. "I've never been able to find him; he should be…ten…eleven standard years now?  Something like that."  He offered up a slight smile.  "All I have is a name.  Han."

                "I'm sorry." Anakin said earnestly.  "I know what it's like to miss family."

"Well…like the Senator said, a smuggler's life is not that easy on a kid.  Probably just as well that I don't have him with me." Khavi Solo stood up abruptly and offered a strained smile.  "Enjoy the ride; I'll let you know when we come out of hyperspace."


	19. Arrivals In Not Quite Paradise

At last!  The muse sings.  My apology for the delay; first I was sick then the holidays interrupted followed by their aftermath. LOL But at long last I have made some progress.  Hope you enjoy the newest installment. :D

= Thoughts transmitted through the master/apprentice bond.

NINETEEN

                Mace Windu strode through the Temple halls, intent on his destination, the Healing Ward.  His face wore its usual calm, impassive mask but the thoughts that roiled around within were anything _but calm.  Healer Obuk's summons had been personal and private and…__urgent.  There had been no details, no explanation for the summons other than to say it was important that the Council Jedi come as quickly as possible._

                Of course, his first thoughts were of Obi-Wan…of the vision…perhaps the young Knight's body was failing him beneath the poisonous onslaught.  Did Kenobi hear the song of the Force; was it calling for him to come?  Could he hear the whispers of his own master's presence, a ghostly imprint of Qui-Gon Jinn beckoning for his former padawan to join him one last time?  Or was the ginger-headed Jedi now Force-blind as Obuk had predicted him to be, dying simply because there was no more strength to live, bereft of all he had known to carry life forward?

                The mask fell away for a moment and Windu swallowed hard.  Perhaps he had been called upon in order to ease Obi-Wan's passage from this plane of existence to the one that would follow, to comfort a Knight for whom the Force in final moments was no longer near…

                Windu found himself fervently hoping that this was not so; despite all he knew as a Jedi, despite the peace that he knew awaited young Kenobi should the will of the Force be to take the Knight to itself, he could not imagine facing that transition without _feeling that peace around him._

                To be honest, in spite of the adage of the Code that whispered _there is no death, and visions aside, Mace simply did not want Obi-Wan to die.  He had long felt that the protégé of Qui-Gon Jinn had been fated for things far more important than most Jedi are called to; even Anakin as the "Chosen One" would not face such a powerful destiny as his mentor.  That feeling flew directly in the face of circumstance; for Obi-Wan to be lying within reach of death's cold fingers seemed to contradict it certainly.  Yet, the feeling persisted somewhere within that the calling to which Knight Kenobi would be given was not easily broken.  A whisper of hope breathed through Windu at that, and he continued his trek to the Ward without pause._

                Upon his arrival, he was greeted by Jeriya, who beckoned him to follow her on into the Ward's inner passageways.  She led him back to the small cubby that Healer Obuk used as an 'office' of sorts; more like a glorified storage room, unpretentious and unchanged over the years.

                "Ah, Master Windu.  Have a seat, please if you will Master." Obuk motioned to the solitary chair sitting in the corner; it was a little worse for wear but he'd never bothered to replace it.  Windu settled silently, watching the Healer move things aside to take a seat across from him.

                "This is about Obi-Wan isn't it?" It was less a question, more simply an observance; Mace's voice quiet and nearly emotionless.  Nearly.  Obuk knew better but declined to speak of it.

                "You and I both made promises to that stubborn gundark Jinn years ago, when Obi-Wan was barely fifteen.  Do you recall that promise, Master Windu?"  It was, as always, a curious blend of bluntness and formality with Obuk in addressing the dark skinned Jedi Master; familiarity allowing just enough room for the bluntness and the formality smoothing the edge of frank words.  Mace nodded curtly.

                "We swore to Qui-Gon we would look out for Obi-Wan should anything happen to him."  They had rarely spoken of it; it was a vow made in a room not unlike the one in which Obi-Wan now laid.  A vow extracted by a severely injured Qui-Gon Jinn who very nearly had become one with the Force a scant while after having taken Kenobi as his apprentice.

                "Obi-Wan may be a Knight with a padawan of his own now but that matters little to that promise, Master.  I hold it as strongly now as the day I made it.  Qui-Gon Jinn was a very particular person in whom he gave that sort of trust and one with the Force or not, I don't intend to let that trust fall by the wayside."

                "Neither do I." Mace replied steadily, although his eyes narrowed a little.  What was Obuk leading up to?

                "Obi-Wan has lost his ability to access the training bond he shares with young Skywalker." Obuk said calmly but directly, watched as Mace absorbed the information.  "He can't sense his apprentice at all, not even to detect Padawan Skywalker's Force-signature.  I don't need to tell you what sort of impact that is having on him and I called _you here to help me keep our word to Qui-Gon."_

                "I don't understand." Mace frowned a little now, the first truly emotional expression he'd shown to Obuk since his arrival.

                "Padawan Skywalker is missing." Obuk let the other shoe drop now, and Mace sat back in the chair a bit.  "When Obi-Wan lost contact with the bond, we scoured the Ward and surrounding areas of the Temple but have been unable to find Anakin.  Given Obi-Wan's current condition, I have a hard time believing his apprentice would be that far away without some word..."

                "I'll look into it." Mace promised quietly.  "This is a vulnerable time for Anakin."

                "Vulnerable time for Obi-Wan as well."  Obuk's seriously intoned.  "Anakin has been steadfastly hopeful for his master's recovery; it's been holding Obi-Wan together through all of this.  Don't get me wrong; you know as well as I that Kenobi is nearly as stubborn as Qui was and we won't lose him without a fight.  But sometimes the hope of a single person can tip the scales in a patient's favor; I've seen it many times.  We have to find Anakin and bring him to Obi-Wan."

                "I will." Windu nodded affirmatively as if to secure the oath made to Qui-Gon so long ago.

                "Before you do," Obuk pressed again, his eyes sharp and probing.  "You'd better go keep your word to Qui-Gon a bit more personally."

                Mace rose now, understanding in his eyes, a silent blink of acknowledgement.  It was no secret that he and Qui-Gon Jinn had butted heads more than once, not the least of which had been over the potential apprenticeship of Anakin Skywalker ten years ago.  But when it had come right down to it, no one on the Council had been closer to Jinn than Mace, despite the volatile mixture of personalities; several missions together as young Knights had forged their friendship long before either of them ever took on a padawan.

                He exited Obuk's small cubby and proceeded down the corridor to the room indicated.  Slipping inside, he drew in a deep, uncertain breath at the sight that met his eyes.  With all the battle activity in the Charmadis Sector, he had kept up with Obi-Wan's condition but had not allowed himself the time to spend at the young Knight's side.  _If Qui-Gon were alive he'd be right here, no matter which of them had been his padawan after Naboo and no matter what in Havlin's Hades was going on around him.  Mace reflected silently to himself as he sidled up next to the young Knight._

                Obi-Wan was completely inert, eyes closed, no sound other than soft breathing.  Mace quietly laid a hand at Obi-Wan's shoulder, suddenly taken with the sharp contrast between his own dark tones with the utter absence of color in the younger Jedi's face.  Just as he was about to withdraw his hand however, Mace's touch registered with Obi-Wan, eyes opening wearily to focus on him.

                "Obi-Wan." He said quietly, and Kenobi merely blinked a bit at first, as if trying to summon enough energy to respond.  Mace shook his head slightly.  "Don't try to talk."  The blue-grey eyes, normally so alert, were dulled with illness and medication and Mace had a hard time keeping that calm mask in place.

                "_Anakin…?" Obi-Wan's whispered inquiry after his absent apprentice caught at Mace more for the worry behind the tired eyes than for the fact that he'd just been charged with finding the wayward Skywalker._

                "He'll be here soon." Mace promised.  Unlike his previous defiance with Obuk, however, Obi-Wan merely turned his head a little, a slight acknowledgement.

                "_What…did…the Council decide…for him?"_

                "About…?" Mace frowned a little, uncertain what Kenobi was driving at. Obi-Wan blinked again, struggled to focus.

                "_About…a new master…for him when this…" Obi-Wan swallowed a little.  "__…is over.  You did choose…didn't you?"_

                "We did no such thing, Obi-Wan Kenobi." Mace found his tone a bit more strident than he'd intended, and he cleared his throat a bit, and then sighed softly.  "Yoda and I discussed it.  _If Anakin should be taken by another, the Council will decide what his course will be.  But no one has been named.  And personally if I ever hear you talking like that again, Kenobi, I'll make sure you live to regret it."_

                Despite the feeling of…disconnectedness that washed over Obi-Wan as he realized he couldn't sense the other Jedi's Force-signature even though Mace stood right next to him, a faint smile played at the corners of his lips, a briefly brighter look to the pale expression.  _Not a threat to be taken lightly.  Absurdly amusing, and yet somehow it was.  Then his thoughts drifted back to Anakin and he nodded a little, a serious light returned to the slightly unfocused eyes._

                "_I trust…you and Master…Yoda.  Whatever the…the…outcome…I know…"_

                "Quiet now, Obi-Wan." Mace urged softly, shaking his head a little.  "We can talk another time."  The eerie familiarity of this deposit of trust reminded him again of the promise to Qui-Gon.  "Right now what you need is rest."

                "_I can't…sense you…Master." Obi-Wan admitted, and in a moment of crumbling control, his breath caught a little in his throat._

                "I know." Mace said, softer now, his own expression of calm falling away to reveal a deeper concern.  Tightening his grip at the younger man's shoulder, the Jedi Master reached out into the Force, concentrating on Obi-Wan, on the once-bright Force-signature that now sputtered like a stubborn ember and projected his own Force-signature into it, touching Obi-Wan's consciousness with the familiar awareness of who he was.  "You _are Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi…remember that.  You were chosen of the Force…crafted by the Force in this place…and called of the Force, I still believe.  You are not done here yet, Obi-Wan."_

Surer words he had never spoken, and Mace himself was caught by the strength in them.  _The hope of a single person…Obuk's words came back to Mace, and he wondered at them briefly.  Hope? Or Truth?  __You saw the vision, Windu, just like Yoda…you saw__ Obi-Wan die… Yet as his diminutive friend was fond of saying, the future is always moving, restless, spoken in possibilities one moment and swept aside and reshaped the next._

Even as Mace felt Obi-Wan respond shakily to the brief brush through the Force, a grateful acknowledgement of his Force-signature, he had to wonder to himself just _which version of the Future was unfolding here before them.  Shaking himself from those thoughts, Mace squeezed lightly again at Obi-Wan's shoulder, waiting for Kenobi's eyes to close before turning away to locate Anakin as Obuk had requested._

++++++

                Uleare One.  At least that's what the first of the six colonized moons was loosely known as among most star pilots; the colonies weren't generally considered significant enough to include as separate designations on most standard star charts.  It wasn't exactly tourist-attraction material; Uleare One, like three of the other five moons, was a mining colony.  Coarse dwellings, cobbled together "cities" that were temporary at best, dotted the periphery of the mining sites, filled with coarser people; it wasn't that the Uleareans couldn't appreciate the finer things in life; it was simply that they rarely if ever _considered the finer things in life.  The other two colonies were as close to "regular" settlements as they would ever get; more permanent structures and if not a thriving tourist trade at least a fairly bustling economy in manufacturing, namely parts construction for starships of all kinds._

                "Nice." Anakin commented lightly as he set foot on the docking bay floor.  Khavi chuckled a little as he stepped out of the _Silver Sunrise just after Padmé._

                "Hey, I told you it wasn't paradise." The smuggler motioned around them loosely.  "This place is just marking time, y'know?  When the kelde strike dries up they'll move on to the next deposit they find until this moon is so full of holes you could take it down in a skyhopper mounted with a water pistol.  They're all like that, 'cept for the two in the middle.  Likely that's where some of the miners will end up, drifters, working in the hyperdrive factories.  The rest of 'em will go off looking for some other chunk of rock to dig up.  There are credits to be made in this stuff, but these poor idiots won't see much of 'em."

                "Your compassion is amazing." Padmé's sarcasm wasn't lost on Khavi; the Corellian shrugged a little.

                "Just tellin' you how it is outside of the sacred halls of government."  This time it was Khavi's turn to be a little sharp, but Padmé held her tongue; quite likely the smuggler would have little use for anything she might say in reply.  "Have any bright ideas where to start, Jedi?"

                For his own part, Anakin's attention was pretty much riveted to the sliver of Ulearean society that was visible just beyond the docking bay's partially opened cargo delivery doors.  Miners, the occasional pilot, some of the service personnel of the mining colony all passed by on their own business.  These transient "citizens" of Uleare were from several species Anakin was already familiar with, and quite a few that he'd never seen before, even on his travels with Master Obi-Wan.  In that sense, it was not unlike Tatooine, and upon that realization Anakin relaxed almost immediately.  He knew _exactly where to begin._

                "Where do the locals go on their off-time around here?"

                "Well…assuming they get off-time in any quantity, I'm sure someone's set up a spice shack around here someplace.  Spice, kanarind, whatever they've discovered here that they can run through a home-made still and drink without killing themselves…shouldn't be too hard to find."  Khavi looked Anakin over frankly, and shook his head a little.  "Wanderin' around the place in that get-up won't get you very far though.  Not too many of this type have a notion to trust most outsiders, let alone a Jedi.  They catch sight of you lookin' like that and not only will they _not talk to you, they're likely to give you the same treatment your friends got."_

Anakin nodded vaguely, his eyes still on the fraction of Uleare One he could see from his vantage point, his senses stretching out into the Force to gather impressions, sensations, even the fleeting thought or two.  Anything from which he might glean some insight and understanding from these people about what he wanted to know.  Next to him, Padmé sidled closer, trying to see what he was looking at.  Just as he reached back a hand toward her, his attention was arrested by the slight, slender figure of…Anakin couldn't tell if it was a girl or a boy.

The child was humanoid, certainly, large brown eyes in a pale delicate face framed by matted dirty sandy-blonde hair not much different in tone from his own, dressed in the pale green hues of miner's coveralls that obviously had been altered roughly to fit the small frame.  The little one simply stood in the doorway looking back at the young Jedi, holding Anakin's attention totally.  Just as Anakin started to take a step forward, an older youth joined the child, guiding the younger one away from the cargo bay area with a steady hand.

"What is it?" Padmé asked softly, and Anakin shook his head a little, uncertain himself just what it was about the small one that had drawn—and held—his attention.  Perhaps it was simply the honest open curiosity in the child's expression.  Still he couldn't help but feel that perhaps…it was something _more, although he didn't know what it might be.  Khavi returned, thrusting an armful of clothes at him wordlessly.  The smuggler appraised Padmé frankly and shrugged, tugging a bit at an embroidered sleeve._

"It'll do." He pronounced, turning away to retrieve a few other things.

"I'm so glad you approve." Padmé replied archly, pulling her arm away, which only brought a grin to the Corellian's expression.  The clothes the pilot had provided Anakin were simple, rough, the outfit of a common day-laborer.

"I'm not cutting the braid." He pronounced solidly; there was no way he would dispense with the symbol of his apprenticeship, especially when this fight was one to save the mentor who taught him.  Khavi shrugged a bit as if it made no difference to him, although he did motion to the 'saber clipped at Anakin's side.

"You might want to figure out what to do with that.  That screams 'Jedi' more than those boring sand-tones you're wearing."  He grinned.  "Just make sure you don't find occasion to use it, because that'll get around faster than a Twi'lek in a spice house."

Minutes later the trio ventured out into the "streets" of the makeshift miner city, Anakin now clothed in a deep blue tunic and loose-fitting trousers, his lightsaber tucked inconspicuously away beneath the folds of the longer tunic.  The muddy footpaths of the immediate area around the landing bay were obviously part of the main thoroughfare, and as they proceeded down into the heart of the scraped-together community, the young Jedi was well aware of the openly curious stares of the Uleareans at the presence of the newcomers.  As predicted, it didn't take them long to find the center of "entertainment" for the mining colony, a rough-looking establishment that appeared to be barely standing with a sagging roof and a halfway working holo-ad for its services.  Glancing left and right, senses as attuned as he could make them, Anakin waited for Padmé to precede him and then stepped within its darkened door.

++++++

                Jeriya shifted a little in the chair she occupied at Obi-Wan's bedside, setting aside the datapad she had been perusing.  Since Master Windu's departure, she had taken up station at the ill Jedi's side upon Obuk's suggestion, doing her best to keep him calm and comfortable, trying to do what she could to anchor his waning senses in the Force to the living pulse that beat all around them.

                What had her attention now was the small motion Kenobi made, a hand moving slowly.  Rising from the chair, she came to his side and stretched out through the Force toward him.  It didn't take much to understand; along with his crumbling Force sensitivity, the mental shields that had surrounded Obi-Wan's distress had long been dismantled.  Gently she caught at his hand, a comforting gesture, having realized earlier that in his hazy state of mind Obi-Wan had attached his apprentice's identity to her presence.  It was something Jeriya had not taken the time to deny; if it brought him a little solace and allowed him to rest peacefully, then so be it.  For this moment in time she would assume the role of Anakin Skywalker, Padawan to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

                "_Anakin..."  The call was soft, almost inaudible, his voice laced with pain._

                "Yes, Master." Jeriya answered him quietly, bringing her other hand over to cradle his between her slender palms.  A soft sigh escaped the Jedi lying before her, and she smiled a little, sensing he had only sought the reassurance that he wasn't alone.  She couldn't imagine facing such a loss as Obi-Wan faced, to not feel the Force; there was never a moment in time when she had not been aware of its presence over and around her.  To not sense his padawan, the master-apprentice bond disintegrating like tattered moth-eaten fabric.

Reaching out toward Obi-Wan, she drew the Force around him warm and soothing, doing her best to make it felt to him, watched as the ginger head turned slightly, another soft sigh as her efforts were dimly sensed.  Releasing his hand, she carefully pulled the blanket up a little more, brushing her fingers briefly along pale features.

                "How is he?"  A quiet voice at the doorway drew her attention, and Jeriya looked up to see the unexpected presence of Adi Gallia.  The graceful Jedi Master slipped into the room, coming closer, her eyes displaying the gentle compassion that had always been her hallmark.

                "Master Gallia." The young Healer greeted softly, motioning Adi to come closer.  She had never known Adi Gallia very well, but Jeriya instinctively sensed that it would be the Master's kindly nature toward others that would ultimately bring about Adi's own restoration after Varix.

                Adi's steps were fluid, bringing her to Obi-Wan's side in an effortless motion.  Like Jeriya a moment ago, she reached down to take a stilled hand in her own, her long slender fingers sliding around his palm and the fingertips of her other hand stroking comfortingly along the back of his wrist.  Looking up at Jeriya, her eyes displayed her sympathetic concern.

                "I was there to see him taken as Padawan to Qui-Gon Jinn." She began softly, looking back down at the drawn, pallid face.  "When Qui-Gon finally officially announced his intentions before the Council to take him on, I knew that Obi-Wan would be a good Jedi.  The Force is strong with him."  Adi paused painfully, her expression troubled.  _Was strong with him; Jeriya could see it in Adi's face without the words being spoken.  The Jedi Master's fingers continued to move softly along the back of Obi-Wan's hand, almost as comforting a thing to her as it was to him.  "I've never had occasion to doubt that in him.  Even when Qui-Gon wanted to turn him aside to take on Anakin.  I…"  Adi broke off as a low groan broke from Obi-Wan's throat.  "Obi-Wan." She drew his hand closer, clasping it carefully but firmly, making her presence felt with her touch as well as her voice, until her effort was rewarded with a flicker of eyelids, a slow focusing of attention._

                Adi Gallia's sharp, intelligent gaze had always been able to command notice and respect from Obi-Wan; as a padawan a single look from her in the Council chambers had been enough to make him squirm.  But those perceptive blue depths had always been tempered by her compassionate spirit and it didn't take Force-sensitivity to see the haunted look behind Adi's eyes.

                "_What…is it?" Obi-Wan breathed out softly, his instincts prompting him despite his wearied mind and body.  "__What…happened to you…Master?"_

                "To me?" Adi's voice, a rich mellow alto, filtered back to Obi-Wan, full of care and a slight surprise at having been so easily 'read.'  "I came here for your sake, Obi-Wan, not mine."  Her kindly attempt at dismissal drew a tiny shake of his head.

                "_What happened…out there?" Obi-Wan persisted._

                "You don't know?" Adi glanced at Jeriya, not wanting to speak of it and cause more distress.  The young Healer shrugged ever so slightly; uncertain if divulging the information or withholding it would do the greater harm.  Adi returned her attention to Obi-Wan; a slight pressure at his hand, a comforting gesture, those deeply intense eyes gazing at him thoughtfully.  "It can wait, Obi-Wan." She said gently, but firmly, brooking no further protest from him.  But the doubt that she saw flicker across the younger Knight's face was nearly enough to make her rethink her choice to remain silent about Luminara's death.  _Can it?  Can it truly wait?  Do we have that kind of time?  Adi's thoughts echoed the sliver of misgiving in those equally exquisite pale blue irises that looked back at her, and she squeezed his hand again.  Almost in unconscious echo of Mace Windu earlier, she murmured softly, "The Force is not done with you yet, my friend."_

                Despite the urge to simply drift, Obi-Wan made a concerted effort to concentrate, to focus.  Blinking a little, he offered her a brief, sallow smile.  If anything Adi Gallia was a frankly honest person, even if she did know how to temper it with a little grace, a talent that Master Qui-Gon had never seemed to totally command.  Qui-Gon had always pretty much taken the direct approach, with little room for the finer social charms.  But what his Master had lacked in tact, had often been redeemed by sheer skill; very few had been as adept at assessing a situation and coming straight to the heart of it as Qui-Gon Jinn.  While he may have been painfully blunt, and often gruff, Jinn's evaluations of circumstance had been almost unfailingly accurate.  Master Gallia was no less astute; if she said it could wait, then it could wait.  Tiredly Obi-Wan nodded his resignation to her gentle instruction.  Another time he might have pursued his concern more doggedly, but just now it was all he could do to simply channel his attention into the moment.  Still…

                "_It's…all…all right…"  The whispered words reached Adi's ears and for a moment she simply nodded, assuming that Obi-Wan was affirming her decision not to speak of the events on Varix.  But then she caught the flash of desperate concentration in the tired eyes and she froze briefly as she realized Kenobi was telling her that __whatever has happened, you'll be all right.  Impulsively she tightened her grip at his hand, barely daring to breathe.  Seeing that he had her understanding, Obi-Wan allowed another faint, brief smile.  "__You know…the…way…of the…of the Force."  The concentration was waning, the eyes becoming drowsy, dazed.  "__Trust."_

                Still as stone, Adi held Obi-Wan's slowly fading attention a moment longer, still clutching his hand, her eyes crystalline azure as they filled with unshed tears.  Finally a gentle smile touched her lips and she feathered graceful slender fingertips against an ashen temple.

                "Trust." She echoed quietly as she watched Obi-Wan's eyes drift closed, the effort to speak leaving him spent.  She stayed next to him for several moments before carefully laid his hand back down.  Coming several paces away, she motioned to Jeriya, who had remained silent during the entire exchange, and waited as the young Healer approached.  "Padawan Skywalker knew about Luminara…he made an appearance at her funeral.  He didn't tell Obi-Wan?"

                "No, not that I'm aware of."  Jeriya shook her head just slightly.  Adi folded her arms, expression thoughtful.

                "Where is Padawan Skywalker?  I didn't see him on my way up here."  It wasn't exactly accusatory toward the missing apprentice, but it was certainly pointed, and Jeriya could hear it in the placid Master's tone.

                "I don't know, Master." Jeriya replied honestly, worriedly.  "Master Windu was going to look for him, but that was awhile ago.  Master Kenobi has been…has been calling for him."

Adi paused a moment, thinking, and then her mind cast upon the memory of an instance when Obi-Wan had asked her advice concerning his young charge not long after the boy had turned thirteen, and the light of an idea dawned in her expression.

"I have an idea."

++++++

                The dark, dank interior of the seedy little canteen was a perfect reflection of the demeanor of the Uleare One colony.  'Dive,' Anakin decided as they made their way toward an unsteady table in the back, was being generous.

                The proprietor was a florid-faced reptilian, possibly Yaravian by species, gruff and crude and rather suited to the clientele he served.  Or anesthetized, Anakin reflected, from the looks of some of the drunken miners that populated the place even in the middle of the day.

                "What's your fancy?" The Yaravian said in stilted tones as he approached his newest customers, the choppy cadence telling Anakin that Basic Standard was not this bartender's first language.

                Closer to the far end of the roughshod bar, were a handful of females, somewhat provocatively clad; what more or less passed as the local "ladies of the night."  The entrance of the newcomers sparked no small interest in the small knot, setting off twittering speculation and not-so-subtle glances in their direction.

                "Whatever you've got that passes for Jaraolin rum for me and sweet-water for the kiddies."  Khavi jerked a thumb in Anakin's general direction.  As the Yaravian scuttled away to fill the order, the Corellian leaned forward to rest one arm on the table.  "Nice." He echoed Anakin's sentiments from before, and to his surprise the young Jedi grinned back.

                "Well you _did point out it's not exactly paradise."_

                Anakin swept the little room with a perfunctory gaze, doing his best not to appear _too curious or threatening, giving the rundown bar and its equally rundown patrons a brief Force-inspection as well, stretching out and etching details into his mind, details that might prove useful later._

                A few tables away, tucked into the dark recesses of a small alcove, the watchers were being watched.  A slim, lithe figure dressed in the coarse homespun of a miner's wife nursed along a small pinkish-colored drink and observed the trio carefully.  Padawan braid or not, there was no disguising the Jedi who sat in the middle, the presence he fairly broadcast into the Force was stronger than any she had yet sensed.  Truly it would not take much for him to grasp the particulars of what she was prepared to offer him; the cautions she had been given about approaching him delicately were well-spoken.

                Despite her mandate of making sure young Skywalker "found" her, she was unwilling for their first meeting to be in this filthy place, nor in the presence of his companions. With a last, lingering gaze at the face she was about to become eminently acquainted with and a toss of a few credits onto the table, she slipped from the alcove and out of the bar.

++++++

                Count Dooku was the new arbitrary ruler of Dhalis II.  There had been little resistance to the 'droid armies once the invasion had reached full strength; the Dhalisians had been in no true position to offer any notable struggle really.

                The small world itself was of no import politically and it really had very little to offer in the way of strategic importance or even natural resources, a world of simple but hard-gotten livelihoods among its gentle people.  But what it did offer was the greatest resource of all—conscripts.  Already the first shiploads of conscripted laborers and soldiers had been sent off-planet.  More would follow shortly; there was no shortage of usable stock among the Dhalisian natives.

                Of lesser importance was the fact that a "victory" here was enough to soothe the frazzled nerves of Nute Gunray, if only for a time.  However it was an incredible relief to not be listening to the annoying fretting of the Neimoidian viceroy.

                It would not be long, he sensed, before his Master would order a much broader, more ambitious strike; likely when young Anakin Skywalker was in hand.  A broader push into the galaxy would fan this flame of war into a wildfire that would engulf the galaxy and purge it of all that would oppose the Sith.

                Masters of their own destiny? Perhaps.  Masters of everyone else's, most certainly.  This had been foreseen and the work going on in the Jastas system would see to that.  Coded progress reports had arrived to him even out here, on the Death Star project's development; he would soon take a brief sojourn from the war efforts to examine the work himself before updating Lord Sidious and returning to Dhalis II for the next phase of the war's offensive.

                Unexpectedly his thoughts drifted away from this arena to the cloistered halls of the Jedi Temple.  To this day he could see the graceful structure, recall the sounds of lessons in the 'saber sparring rounds, the scent of shaffa in the meditation gardens…the sound of water in the Room of a Thousand Fountains…the determination of the moment that had marked his padawan Jinn, and that unaccounted, almost unnatural grace of the Force that rested on Obi-Wan Kenobi.  Surely Kenobi was merely a pawn, bait for his apprentice's downfall; Lord Sidious had no compunction about such things.  Obi-Wan would be sacrificed for the sake of commandeering the boy and again Dooku reflected on the tremendous waste that would be.

                But then again, it was all a waste.  The Senate had little regard for the Jedi Order and there was no understanding of its true potential—not even among its own best and brightest.  So much squandered in the pursuit of a code and a lifestyle that demanded much and returned little; it was beyond comprehension.  As another group of conscripts was led away under his watchful gaze, Dooku reflected that those Jedi remaining in the insulated halls were just as much bound in slavery, slaves to a government system that did not care, slaves to a Code that would not bend, and slaves to a philosophy that kept them shackled from their real purpose and abilities.  And like slaves, those unrelenting forces would decree their destruction.

                "Terrible waste." He murmured to himself, not quite sympathetically, but not quite maliciously either.  Death and destruction were his allies now, certainly, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy them…or _admit to enjoying them, anyway.  The Jedi continued to cling to their lofty ideals of balance in the Force…the only balance Dooku could see, was the balance of revenge.  Light lived only to be crushed by the dark.  So the bright grace was being slowly snuffed out._

                "You said something, Sir?" One of the junior Neimoidian crew, nervous, fidgety, eager to make a good impression.  Dooku shook his head.

                "Nothing.  Have my ship prepared." Dooku ordered easily, his tone as composed and urbane as ever.  Turning unexpectedly but smoothly, cloak billowing out behind him, Count Dooku—Lord Tyranus—the "gentleman face" of the Sith, swept from the command center.


	20. Decisions In The Details

I swear the muse has been on strike. Lol But once again she sings for me and this is the result…I apologize for staying away so long and with some good fortunate and maybe a bit of chocolate, the muse will sing me a chapter for my other monstrosity that has been sitting on the shelf for so long. J In the meantime, enjoy!

TWENTY

                The attempt to locate Anakin Skywalker was taking an uncomfortable turn.  Mace had a sinking feeling he knew _exactly where the youthful Jedi padawan had gone and what he was up to, but he wanted to be as thorough as possible before presenting his opinions to Master Yoda—or anyone else for that matter—and so he continued his diligent search.  Living quarters, sparring rounds, The Room of a Thousand Fountains…even the meditation gardens, none of which had turned up any clue as to the absentee apprentice._

                "You're looking," A soft warm voice like honeyed sweet-tea behind him caught Windu's attention and spun him around.  "In all the wrong places."

                Adi Gallia stood a few paces apart, her face a study in almost bemused curiosity and Mace simply raised his eyebrows and folded his arms across his chest in demeanor that prompted explanation, and his fellow Council-member merely smiled—a smile that, he reflected briefly—he had not expected to see again for a very long time.

                "And how exactly is that?" Windu finally asked with a faint motion around them.  "It's the Temple, Adi.  Where else _should I look?"  It was a question that he didn't really want to pose; he was almost dreading the answer he felt beginning to loom over him, that Anakin had deliberately gone to Uleare against the Council's orders in a desperate bid to reclaim his master's life.  His thoughts were interrupted by the silvery tone of Adi's light laughter._

                "You're looking in all of the places you would find the _master, not the _apprentice_." Adi finally answered, her musical voice striking Mace as being unerringly matter-of-fact.  "If you want to find Anakin, you have to start thinking like him and not Obi-Wan."_

                Gallia approached Windu now, coming alongside him in the small arbor in the meditation gardens, where Obi-Wan often came, either alone or with his padawan, to meditate amidst the flowering glory all around.

                "There is much of Obi-Wan here." Mace finally agreed quietly, brushing his fingers against the leafy creeping alaialai vines.  "Of everything that Qui-Gon ever achieved as a Jedi, his apprentice is the best of them all."

                Adi glanced up at the vines that intertwined overhead, sensing as Mace did the indelible imprint of Obi-Wan Kenobi in this spot, the Living Force echoing the pulse of a young Jedi earnestly meditating here from his earliest days as an Initiate to moments spent apart late at night while his Master slept, to times spent teaching his own padawan how to find focus in the Force.  It was like a fingerprint pressed upon the little arbor and as such, was uniquely Obi-Wan.

                "In Anakin's place, Obi-Wan might have sought out Qui-Gon's familiar haunts, but Anakin is definitely _not_ his master.  Padawan Skywalker has never been passive in dealing with his anxieties.  Much as it probably should be, meditation would not be his first choice of action."  The graceful Master watched her companion now as he considered her statement.

                "That's what I'm afraid of." Mace admitted, leaving his cursory inspection of the alaialai trellis to look over at Adi, shaking his head a little.  "He's impulsive, and I know it's not for lack of instruction from Obi-Wan."

                "Not so unlike another young Jedi I knew when he was first Knighted." Adi said gently but pointedly.  Mace raised his eyebrows at her, but ended up chuckling a little.

                "I suppose you're right.  What Obi-Wan doesn't train out of him, time will grow out of him."  Windu hunched his shoulders a little.  _I hope_. He thought to himself.  He frowned a little, a thought.  "What did you follow me down in here for?  It wouldn't be just to tell me that I'm doing this all wrong now would it?"  Another laugh from Adi, a most welcome sound to him; and apart from his normally solemn demeanor Windu was prompted to smile in return.

                "Not exactly.  I just thought that maybe you should consider looking someplace _other than the Temple." Adi motioned with both hands expansively.  "Obi-Wan once told me that he was having trouble keeping Anakin away from the races in the Interior.  Turned out that Anakin found the races a familiar comfort in an unfamiliar world, something he understood in a future new and upsetting to him.  It wouldn't surprise me that in a time of distress like this, if he decided to take a turn or two below-levels just to feel in control of…_something_."_

                Mace rubbed his chin a moment, considering Adi Gallia's suggestion.  It was true that as a very young padawan Anakin had been chided more than once for seeking solace in the races rather than seeking it amongst his fellow Jedi, and from the Force.  And not since those early days of adjusting to life as a Jedi had there been such dramatic emotional upheaval in the young apprentice's life as in the past month since Geonosis.

                "Well that certainly is thinking like the apprentice." He finally agreed, a slightly bemused expression touching his features despite the seriousness of the situation.  "He'd never admit it to anybody openly, but flying isn't exactly Obi-Wan's favorite thing to do."

                "That's always surprised me." Adi said, her expression softening.  "He's not a bad pilot."

                "Well…" Mace sighed softly.  If this didn't turn up anything, then he'd be forced to accede that Anakin had intentionally disobeyed the Council's mandate…and likely the boy would be ruled as being out on his own; there were just too few Knights right now to mount any sort of serious bail-out.  _Obi-Wan would never be able to survive that in his condition.  He swallowed tightly, an uncharacteristic display of worry.  "Are you going to come with me; or just tag along behind to tell me when I'm wrong again?"_

++++++

                Padmé sipped a little at the sweet-water, deciding that it wasn't nearly as rank as the environment it was served in, and tried to look as casual as possible.  Information was everything at this point, and as Khavi Solo bragged, it was what he was good at.  The pilot had risen several minutes ago to go ply his lines with the "ladies" at the end of the bar, engaging a bit of alcohol-sweetened smooth-talking to see what he could learn about the locals, and about the situation involving the two Jedi outsiders that had been found dead.

                Anakin was also employed in relaxed conversation with the bartender, nosing around for details about the convoy raids that had recently taken place.  At least he hoped it was relaxed; he deliberately attempted to steer clear of sounding over-eager or like a nosy off-worlder, ordering a _verikt j'kach_—definitely stronger stuff than the sweet-water Padmé was sampling—and swallowed at it slowly during the course of conversation.

                All of which left Padmé sitting in the corner trying to maintain an inconspicuous demeanor while keeping an eye on their surroundings.  She was by no means as hardnosed as Khavi nor so battle-trained as Anakin, but neither was she totally ignorant of combat, despite whatever opinion Khavi might have about that.  Naboo and Geonosis had taught her plenty; first and foremost to be alert and attentive.

                "I'va…never see you here.  Come another early time?"

                "'Do you come here often?'  Are you serious?" Padmé muttered to herself before even acknowledging the presence of the miner next to her.  "That's got to be the oldest pickup line on every planet in the universe."

                Turning in her chair to face the speaker, she could barely disguise her look of surprise.  The voice had been gruff, gritty, sounding nearly ancient.  But the face that she looked up into was barely more than a child, a tall gangly youth perhaps fifteen or sixteen standard years old.  Young, and…_familiar_ somehow, and Padmé squinted a bit.

                "I saw you." The boy said as he sat down next to her with all the outward appearance of being drunk and trying to make a pass at her, but his abrupt transition into soft, smoothly spoken Basic Standard told her he was not what he appeared to be.  "Outside of that docking bay…I saw you and that Jedi.  My sister was watching you."

                Padmé put on her best glacial expression, the one she'd so often worn as Queen Amidala, official and stone-faced—not a hint of emotion to give away the surge of surprise that welled up within her.  But now recognition broke over her and she realized this boy was the older of the two children outside the docking bay that Anakin had been staring at earlier.

                "How do you know about Jedi?" She replied, the inflection of her tone making it sound like she disbelieved the boy.  "You've likely never been offworld in your life."  The youth sat down next to her now and laced his fingers together.

                "I know the one I saw was a Jedi.  That one talking to old Merej over there."  The youth motioned loosely in the direction of the bar where Anakin was taking another sip of his drink and making some sort of comment to the barkeep.  "Back there at the bay he looked just like the other two that came before."

                "Other two?" Padmé leaned forward a little bit now, guardedness dropping just a little along with the edge to her voice; she didn't know what sort of progress Khavi and Anakin were making but she realized that this boy might be their first real source of information.

                "Girls." The boy said it almost disgustedly.  Padmé was hard-pressed not to laugh, despite the apparent fact that the young man seemed to know of Master Varou and her padawan's presence here, if not the details of the mission they had been charged to carry out.

                "We're not so bad, you know." She said easily, encouraging him to talk more.  "Girls that is."  Leaning forward a bit, Padmé glanced back toward the bar.  Khavi was lounging casually on one of the bar stools, relaxed; winking and laughing and openly flirting while he plied the girls for local gossip.  It was pretty much true everywhere that a little flattery would get you the stars.  Still, this was only a boy; such subtleties might be lost on him.  Giving her young informant a sweet smile, she allowed her hand to rest lightly atop the back of his.

                "They said they were Jedi and that they were going to help us." The youth shifted a little, glancing around almost skittishly; Padmé wasn't sure if he was more nervous of being overheard or of the light flirting.  Either could draw unwanted attention; Padmé squeezed his hand tightly, the sudden pressure redirecting his gaze back to her.  "Then something happened and they didn't come back again."

                "Something?  Do you know what?"  The boy shook his head and Padmé sighed a little.

                "I'd better go." He said, nervousness again breaking through.  "If they find me in here I'll be in big trouble."

                "Wait." Padmé tightened her grip on the boy's fingers once again; keeping him seated a moment longer.  "I'm Padmé.  What's your name?"  Hesitation. Finally the youth looked at her straight in the eye.

                "I'm called Josep Two."  Rising now, he swayed a little, looking offended and put off, and grumbled something derogatory in a drunken tone before staggering off and out a side door.

                Khavi was just turning away from the group of prostitutes and already Padmé could guess by the tight set of the pilot's shoulders that he hadn't come up with as much as he'd been hoping for.  Drinking a little more of the sweet-water, the senator from Naboo smiled to herself.  One-upmanship could be so satisfying.

++++++

                Shadows.  Light…and dark.  Fiery heat and bone-chilling cold.  Sounds…voices perhaps…footsteps.  Searing pain and numbing release.  Touching…hands, but no minds, gentle but unfamiliar without sight—physical or Force—to  guide; hovering between sensibility and unconsciousness, the hazy turning of hours were realized only through the varying shades of light that came through the curtain of closed eyelids.

Obi-Wan tried to see, found himself looking out into bleary light through barely opened eyes.  A sliver of brown sleeve was within line of sight, and he struggled to move a hand, coaxing his fingers into curling around the fabric.  Anakin?  No…the hand that now slipped around his palm was too slender, too feminine.  Adi Gallia returned, perhaps…  Like everything else around him, it almost had a dreamlike quality to it; nothing felt real beyond the shades of light and dark that played on his eyelids and he sank back into the dream, closing the tiny window of sight into what lay beyond.

The pseudo-reality in which Obi-Wan Kenobi now existed was courtesy not of the virus itself, but of the current attempt to halt its ravenous march on his system.  Jeriya paused a moment in her ministrations, regarding the semi-conscious Kenobi quietly; his grip at her sleeve having caught her attention, and her other hand now softly clasping his.  The new medication was having greater success at curtailing the toxin's destructive progression, despite triggering terrifying nightmares and bouts of nausea during the first course of treatment.  Jeriya had remained close at hand throughout, offering comfort, soothing the sickness and calming the troubled dreams to the best of her ability as Obi-Wan's battered body struggled to adjust to the powerful medication.  Subsequent doses now left him simply drifting on the periphery of consciousness, uncertain of what was real and what was imagined, but were at last starting to drown out the pain.  If for nothing else, Jeriya was immensely grateful for that.

Jeriya continued to watch over him compassionately, not sure which was worse, the intentional destruction of his body at the hands of an assassin, or the unintentional shredding of his mind at the hands of his would-be rescuers.  The young Healer glanced down at Obi-Wan's hand, still loosely wrapped around the fistful of her sleeve that his fingers had found.  Without doubt he must have hoped she was Anakin; she could sense his confusion despite his inability to speak it aloud and knew that, somehow, this time Obi-Wan realized that she was not his wayward apprentice.  Even now within the waning of his conscious thoughts she could feel the anxious undercurrent for his padawan that eddied through him like a restless rising brook.

"Sshh…" She murmured softly, a careful squeeze at limp fingers.  "He's all right, Master Kenobi.  I'm sure he is."  _I hope he is. He'd better be or I'll kill him myself._  It was an old joke, something passed between herself and Anakin during their years as young padawans.  Jeriya had been sixteen years old and apprenticed to Master Obuk the day she first met Anakin Skywalker, nine and a half and fidgety as she'd conducted a standard physical exam upon his entrance into the Jedi Temple.  Despite the rumors already flying through the ranks about this young boy she'd taken him on as a younger brother of sorts; something that, in those first days and weeks while Obi-Wan still struggled with the loss of his master, had been a welcome help.  Mischievous ten-year-olds, she remembered with a faint smile, were quite capable of giving their guardian Masters many grey hairs.

Apparently mischievous twenty-year-olds were geniuses at it.

Obi-Wan's soft half-murmurs subsided and Jeriya gave his hand another gentle press before moving aside to the nearby transparisteel window, gazing out upon the slice of Coruscant life that whizzed by, uncaring and unaware of the fight being waged here for this life.  Folding her hands before her, she wondered how Master Windu was faring in locating Padawan Skywalker.

The young Healer drew in a slow, deep breath.  Obi-Wan was nine years her senior, and as Master Obuk's apprentice she had been no stranger to the ginger-headed Jedi over the years.  _The gentlest soul in the Order.  She remembered that day, the return from Naboo, clear as cut glass: Anakin, wide-eyed and uncertain as the two of them had descended the ship's boarding ramp, and Obi-Wan, the razor-edged pain evident in the guarded blue-grey gaze as he had presented the small boy to her.  The apprentice had become the master, the wisdom that is gained only from loss stamped on features still fresh-faced, written in the long braid that lay curled within the folds of his tunic close to his heart, and displayed wordlessly by the 'saber clipped at his side that was not his own._

Jeriya had known then, as she knew now, that Obi-Wan Kenobi had gone to Naboo as one person and had come home as another, despite what anyone might say to the contrary, even Master Kenobi himself.  But something she'd seen that day in those blue-grey depths when she was sixteen, she had seen just now in the slivers of those same eyes as they had sought order from disorder and solace from solitude.

Some might argue that, in this desperate hour, the only thing attaching Kenobi to this life was the promise extracted from him by his own master in final moments…_promise me you will train the boy…but Jeriya knew better.  For alongside the burden of pain she had witnessed in those pale blue eyes all those years ago had been something else entirely.  She had seen determination.  Not just to keep that promise, but further than that, she had seen determination to __care for the boy.  The worry for Anakin that flooded through Obi-Wan in more lucid moments now was not worry that he would fail to honor his word to Qui-Gon Jinn.  It was worry born of an affection begun reluctantly but nurtured into something wholly voluntary and deeply honest.  Most of the time, Jeriya mused, Anakin doubted its existence, but she knew better about that, too._

But as in many things, the discipleship of a Master to an Apprentice sometimes passed on the undesirable as well as the desirable traits of personality and like Qui-Gon Jinn before him, Obi-Wan sometimes failed to know just how he ought to express that caring to his padawan.  Qui-Gon had been gruff, demanding, holding his apprentice to a standard because he knew Kenobi would not only make the mark, he would surpass it.  Secretly Jinn had been more proud of Obi-Wan than of anything else he knew in life as Jedi.  Obi-Wan was too graceful a soul to be gruff, but he was no less demanding of the apprentice entrusted to him.  It came out as an over-protectiveness, a tendency to scold or to lecture rather than to simply admit that whatever mess Anakin had gotten himself into had scared Obi-Wan with the thought that he might lose the boy he had grown so honestly fond of.

Jeriya smiled softly to herself as she glanced back toward the motionless Jedi lying in her care.  She was twenty-six now, and for five years from the time she had been taken as Master Obuk's apprentice at age eleven to that day she had witnessed Obi-Wan's transformation when she was sixteen, she had known her former master to often chide Qui-Gon Jinn openly for not displaying his affections more fully for the graceful apprentice the Force had granted him.  Obuk was nothing if not blunt, and the friendship he'd shared with Jinn had been as open as anything Jinn would ever allow, and Obuk often made use of it.  She doubted that it was her place to correct Master Kenobi now in that same manner, but she imagined just for a brief instant walking in her master's footsteps and telling Obi-Wan just what she thought he should say to his apprentice upon Anakin's return.

_Come back, Anakin_.  Jeriya thought to herself as she returned to Obi-Wan's side, took up the limp hand once more in both of her own, senses attuned to her patient's slightest distress.  _For the sake of this soul who needs you…who loves you…come back_.

++++++

                From a distance, it almost appeared as though some great cosmic event had unfolded to grace Jastas Prime with a new moon, the satellite orbiting its new parent world symmetrically along with the other two chunks of uninhabitable rock that encircled the smallish, unremarkable planet.

                Closer observation as the distance decreased was quick to destroy that initial perception; the geometry too perfect for an actual planetary satellite, even in its incomplete formation.  Closer yet and the beginnings of detail could be seen, a framework built by hands…so many hands…conscripted from various mudholes all across the galaxy and overseen by some of the most brilliant engineering minds available from among the ranks of the commerce guilds, all of whom were loyal to the separatist movement.

                Closer still and the evidence of construction would become plain, ships, supplies, work crews in antigravity construction suits, sparks showering out into the vacuum of space from the artificial oxygen wells wherein workers labored.

                The substance of the weapon was chillingly efficient.  Planetary destruction on a scale never before conceived was within the grasp, the supreme enforcer and surety of the new order.  The design specifications were immaculate, each detail lending to the powerful presence this station would represent.  Carried on in a shroud of secrecy and veiled by the power of the Dark Side, the Death Star project was rising beyond the stages of infancy and slowly becoming reality.

                "Come around to sector three-zero, highside.  There is a landing platform.  I will personally transmit the clearance codes."

                "Yes, Lord Tyranus."

                Gathering himself to his full persona as Tyranus, Lord of the Sith, a mien as formidable as it was stately, Count Dooku was prepared to examine the project's progress himself and report back to his master on the operation as it now stood.  Entering the sector, patrolled by heavily armed Coalition gunships, the graceful Geonosian ship retracted its scintillating energy sail, glissading through near-space toward the metal baldachin that would eventually become one of the station's many landing bay entrances.  Beyond the vast open unfinished husk, that when built would house the most terrifying weapon in the galaxy as well as the forces necessary to complete planetary invasions and squash resistance, was a large station-keeping platform of the sort used by asteroid miners and battleship construction crews.  The platform itself was capable of housing and supporting several hundred teams of workers along with receiving large cargo ships and supply convoys.

                "_Arriving vessel, designate Juno one-niner, you are cleared for landing in cargo receiving bay twenty-thirty on the far-side of navigation tower one."  The voice that crackled over the channel was respectful.  "_Welcome to Jastas, Lord Tyranus; Nucha Kri will be waiting for you in the guild-room on the two-level_."_

                Despite the cordial greeting, there would be no gentleman face of the Sith on this trip; the cold calculating face of the Dark Side was all these simple minions needed to see.  Cloaked in black like his master, bearing the stamp of darkness in the regal features, Tyranus was here to ensure his master's pleasure.  And to enforce his will.

++++++

                The speeder bay on the high side of the Temple was a modest bay, not overly impressive but still well-maintained with a fairly decent selection of speeders and an air-car or two for group transportation.  Most of the transports kept here were rather prosaic, nothing that would catch the practiced eye of a speedrat or even an air-taxi operator.  They were efficient enough for the spare traveling needs of the Jedi in whose service they were employed, but none of them spoke of any flash-and-dash to the outside world.

                Save, that is, for three.

                Three speeders, subjected to the singularly distinct mechanical abilities of Anakin Skywalker, had been the beginnings of a project the padawan had undertaken in his free time before Geonosis, to upgrade the condition of the bay's modest speeder fleet.  Normally they were the last three speeders anchored in the bay at the far end, where Obi-Wan's apprentice had had ample room to tinker and modify.

                Upon the arrival of Masters Windu and Gallia, however, there were only two remaining in their designated spaces, and a tight exhalation of air between clenched teeth was like the sound of a snake as Mace crossed his arms over his chest in irritation.

                "Blast it.  I hate it when you're right."

                Adi's dulcet laugh was the only reply he received at first as she came around to the empty slot in which the missing speeder usually resided.

                "You knew I was already." She shrugged a little as she inspected the area briefly for any detail that might lend itself to telling them about where the little speeder had been taken.  "You were just hoping that you weren't going to have to go back to Obi-Wan and tell him so."

                Perceptive blue eyes looked up at him now, and Mace drew in a breath that sounded almost as harsh as his sigh had been a moment ago, pulled in through teeth once again tightly clenched.  Finally he nodded a little bit; no use trying to deny something already discerned.

                "Yes, I was." The dark-skinned Jedi admitted as he hunched down to touch a spot on the decking, casting out into the Force for a clue…for an answer, where to go next.  "Since you came looking for me I assume you've been up there to see him."  He glanced up at her from his kneeling position now and shook his head a little.  "You know as well as I do that he's in no condition to hear news like this."

                "News like what?" Adi arched her eyebrows now, looking at Windu with an expression that prompted an answer and that quickly.  "What is it you're not telling me, Mace?"

                _First name.__ I'm in trouble._

                Rising, Windu motioned generally, as if to dismiss the question, but those exotic eyes held him as if pinned to a wall, just like everybody else she ever asked anything of.  It was very hard to say _no to Adi Gallia; and as for dismissing anything out of hand…well…nobody ever really did that to her, either, with perhaps the exception of Master Yoda, who was beyond manipulation and Ki-Adi-Mundi, who seemed mostly to be made of emotional stone._

                "I think…"  Windu drew in a deep breath before proceeding further.  "I think we should consider the possibility that Anakin's defied Council orders to stay on Coruscant."

                "Uleare?" Adi pursed her lips a moment, turning over her fellow master's words in her mind.  After a fashion she inclined her head a little, still thoughtful.  "Are those your _instincts you're listening to, or did you already have your mind made up before you came out here?"_

                "He's done it before." Mace replied pointedly, to which Adi shrugged a little.

                "Which really proves nothing.  All we know now is that the speeder is missing. We don't even know for certain if Anakin is even the one who took it out.  Padawan Skywalker can be impulsive, certainly.  But I have a hard time believing that he would…just abandon Obi-Wan to face this alone."

                "Not even if it meant a slim possibility of saving his master's life?" Windu's expression was carefully guarded; more than anything he wanted to believe it of young Skywalker that the apprentice would not deliberately disobey the Council in such a serious matter, wanted to believe that when he returned to the Ward that Anakin would be at Obi-Wan's side.  But it had been his master's life in the balance that had driven Anakin to Geonosis, and if the padawan _had_ departed the capitol world it would be to give chase to the assassin who had targeted Master Kenobi.

                "Well…" Adi paused a moment, made a conciliatory gesture.  "That also is thinking like the apprentice." She finally admitted.  "But let's make sure we're not hanging something on him that doesn't belong there first."  The slender Jedi motioned to the next speeder over, another of the favored three that had been graced with Anakin's deft mechanical sensibilities.  "If I recall correctly, Anakin had these modified with a specially coded transceiver for more secure communications with the Temple.  If we send a single carrier, send-only burst, we might be able to activate the transceiver and track the speeder.  Let's start with what we _know, and leave the rest to the Force. You know that better than anyone, except Yoda.  Master Yoda could, I think, outwait a stone."_

                "Have I said lately that I really hate it when you're right?" Windu grumbled.

++++++

                The pooling of information took place aboard the _Silver Sunrise_ over something vaguely resembling molyyot stew; apparently Khavi Solo wasn't exactly a cook any more than Uleare One was paradise but, Anakin decided after a tentative bite or two, it wouldn't kill them either.

                The Corellian captain wasn't exactly his cordial self; the limited tidbits he brought to the table not going much beyond sketchy—and sometimes contradictory—gossip surrounding the arrival of the two Jedi that had been killed days earlier.  Most of it was the sort of twittering one would expect of such women with very little to occupy their "non-working" hours and almost none of it was political or even useful at all; no new observations to add to what they already knew with one small exception.  Anakin's attention pricked at the side comment made about the two Jedi spending a great deal of time in the south quarter of the small mining colony.  From what Anakin already knew of the temporary city's layout, the south quarter had nothing to do with the governmental concerns that loosely ruled the six moons.

                _We would do well to remember that oftentimes the smallest details yield the most important information… Master Obi-Wan's words drifted back to Anakin, and he made use of them now, prodding this new little crumb with his instincts as he'd been taught, coming to the decision that he too would make a journey into the city's southern quarter. Whatever Master Varou and Padawan Rhe had stumbled on there, had been dangerous enough to get them killed, and in this time of war it could also be something dangerous to the Republic as well._

                "If Master Varou _had_ been instructed to speak to the guild-captains and council envoys about the shipping raids, like you suggested," Anakin spoke between spoonfuls of stew, pausing a moment to lean forward and gesture a little with the utensil, "then there would have been good reason for it.  According to the bartender, there have been fifteen such raids in the last month alone."

                "_Fifteen_?" Padmé echoed in amazement.  "That's far more than the Ulearean representative spoke of to the Senate, at least in open session, almost by half.  Are you _sure, Ani?"_

                "The bartender wasn't trying to be deceptive, if that's what you mean." Anakin picked up his glass now, took a few swallows before placing it aside.  "He really believed that to be right.  His brother, he said, is one of the guild-captains working directly for the mining authorities on Uleare Six.  And you're right about one thing."  A stab of the spoon in Khavi's direction before dipping it back into the stew.  "The raids are all smash-jobs, not neat at all.  The raiders are looking for specific cargo and not bothering to pick the convoys clean like regular pirates.  Grade Four kelde ore is being taken, and almost all of the peripheral anzite deposits too."

                "Anzite.  That stuff is used almost exclusively in weapons production." Khavi commented now, looking up from his own bowl, a bit of curiosity showing in his features.  "I don't remember hearing much about that being shipped out of here.  And kelde ore at the Grade Four level is already refined ore, suitable for construction purposes.  Sounds like your friends are outfitting an army or something."

                "Or something." Anakin agreed thoughtfully, spooning up more of the stew.

                "What I don't get," Khavi leaned forward now on one elbow, giving Anakin a pointed look; "is why the raids are still going on if Uleare has pitched its lot in with this Dooku character.  I mean, ok so you want to outfit your army but if you've got willing cooperation why smash up the outfit giving you the goods?"

                "To make an example." Anakin shrugged a little. "To keep the guild-captains in line.  Certainly to draw the attention of the Order.  Whatever the circumstances around the assassination of Master Varou and her apprentice, the raids were used to bring them here."

                "Awful lot of fuss and bother just to kill a pair of Jedi." Khavi commented sourly.  "Even for somebody like your pal Dooku."

                "Well…" Padmé paused a moment in mid-bite to regard her companions placidly before continuing with either her meal or her statement.  "…the Master Jedi and her padawan-learner were involved with more than just the shipping concerns of the guild-captains here."

                Her quiet statement, spoken so matter-of-factly, produced a satisfactory amount of surprised reaction from Khavi, a flash within normally cynical eyes, before the Corellian's forehead bunched into a tightly held frown.  Next to her, she could almost feel the electric jump in her husband's demeanor, a startled hopefulness and then pride rising in his features as he looked at her.

                "What did you find out?" Anakin prompted her, for the moment ignoring the tall pilot's annoyance, bleeding loudly into the periphery of his senses.

                "Master Varou and Padawan Rhe had pledged their aid to a pair of...children."  She glanced at Khavi, but then fixed her attention on Anakin's intensely watchful gaze.  "A young man and his curious little sister."

                Anakin could no more ignore the sharp prompting in the Force as he could a physical shove in the back.  Padmé's descriptive reminder of the child that had held his attention at their arrival prickled at his senses like a shouted…what? Warning? Calling?  He wasn't sure but he did know that, married to his current prompting to see the south quarter for himself, this was one of those 'important details' Master Obi-Wan had talked about.

                "What kind of aid?" Khavi asked gruffly, curious in spite of himself.

                "I…don't know." Padmé admitted.  "I wasn't able to talk with him long; he was taking a risk to be seen with us I think, but he knew Anakin is a Jedi.  I did get a name however.  Josep Two."

                "I don't suppose you asked him where you might find him later, did you Senator?" Khavi asked pointedly, taking a long swallow of the local concoction he'd purchased from the makeshift canteen.

                "He'll find us." Padmé asserted, almost as if to convince herself as much as the smuggler next to her.

                "No…" Anakin interrupted, his voice somewhat subdued, but his eyes holding a faraway expression as if looking at, or looking for, something in the space between them.  "I'll find him.  In the southern quarter…tonight."

                "You been smokin' with Jash, or are you just stupid?" Khavi snorted, shaking his head and drinking more of the local liquor.  "When I said it wasn't paradise around here, I meant it.  Wanderin' around in the middle of the night isn't exactly the brightest idea.  And pardon my saying so, but if the _kid_ knew you're a Jedi, then chances are others already know too."

                Anakin said nothing more for several moments, simply holding Padmé's gaze before speaking again, his words directed not at Khavi, but at his wife.

                "This is why I'm here, Padmé."  Youthful features were creased in a tight, anxious, expressive frown, voice quietly persuasive.

                "I know."  She didn't flinch, didn't shy away from what Anakin planned to do.  _The life of a Jedi is a hard one... She could not ask him to spare her from that now, not now when time was running out for Master Kenobi.  Anakin's expression melted into a brief smile, flashing across his features reassuringly before settling back into something much more…determined.  Rising quickly, the impetuous apprentice abandoned his meal in order to prepare for what lay ahead._

                For his own part, Khavi Solo watched the exchange between the two of them with a degree of interest and of mild surprise.  Leaning forward a little bit with a bit of a crooked, sardonic grin, the comment is as off-handed as he can make it.

                "Well, Senator, guess that leaves you and me.  Whatever will we talk about, hmm?"

++++++

                The send-only signal had indeed activated a return signature from the speeder, and as Adi had predicted, it was emanating from deep in the Interior.  Tracking the signal had taken them into what was, by all accounts, an unsavory portion of the cityscape, levels lower than even some of the speedrat lairs, governed by street law and gang rules, small packs of beings scraping out their survival by any means necessary.

                Next to her, Mace strode determinedly, as if by increasing his pace they would be in less danger.  Adi kept up easily enough, her height and long legs more than a match for her companion, but she said nothing; each of them were stretching out into the Force as far as they could, noting everything and taking nothing for granted.  True, they were Jedi. And Jedi Masters at that.

                But they weren't immortal.

                The transponder return signal led them to a ramshackle compartment dug into what appeared to be the ancient foundations of a once-proud building, originally constructed however many centuries ago before Coruscanti structures had come to brush the sky.  There was very little by way of entry, just a small doorway fairly well concealed along the side of the built-on wall facing the outer passage.

                "It's bigger than this." Adi murmured, motioning briefly with a forefinger.  Mace nodded curtly, his own senses on high alert.

                Adi stepped aside as Mace lifted a hand, reached out through the Force to shove the door open and then followed him in to the sound of protesting voices.  Two voices to be exact, and as Adi had predicted, the outside of the compartment was terribly deceiving to the eye; the inside was large enough to almost be its own hangar bay. Various cannibalized parts and partially rebuilt speeders, air-cars and various other transports littered the area.

                "Heya! What you do here?" The first of the two beings inhabiting the forward section of the compartment demanded as he scrambled to his feet.  He was roughly humanoid; upon closer inspection his slightly purplish skin-tone and extra eye identified him as a Maeriba.  "Jedi! Wanting what you do?"

                Mace wasted no time getting to the point.

                "We're looking for a speeder taken from the Jedi Temple and we've tracked it here.  We want to know where it is and what happened to its driver."

                "Look, princess." The second occupant of the bay, a human from the looks of him, leered at Adi from behind a small workstation of some type.  "You're much too lovely to be seen with the likes of him." He motioned generally to include both Mace _and his Maeriba companion.  "What say you let me see what's hiding underneath that robe of yours?"_

                The motion was so quick that the Maeriba scarcely had time to blink all three of his eyelids and the human nearly topped from his chair, before a 'saber blade hummed just beneath his chin.  Adi smiled sweetly, although her eyes sparked blue fire.

                "Now then.  You've seen what's under my robe.  Now you're going to do a favor for me."  Motioning to Mace, she took the small signal tracer from her fellow master's hand and placed it before the frozen, motionless man before her.  "You're going to take us to this speeder.  And you're going to take us there right now."

                "Go where you wishing." The Maeriba held up both of his six-fingered hands and backed away, unwilling to challenge two rather agitated-looking Jedi.  "Out back of your way I am."

                Mace grinned unexpectedly at Adi, whose 'saber was still ignited beneath the other man's chin.

                "Good."


	21. Discoveries and Dreams

I live! LOL contrary to popular opinion, this story did not kill me off.  ;)  Here's a fresh installment, courtesy of being sick with bronchitis and needing something to entertain myself while resting on the couch. LOL J Enjoy!

TWENTY-ONE

                "Ah, yes, milord."  The being known as Nucha Kri was roughly human.  Roughly, considering his ancestry also included something alien, decidedly exotic, from the tiny finlike protrusions on his ears and the small ridges running the length of his cheekbones.  The rest of him looked as human as his visitor, lending him a sort of malformed appearance that was amply compensated by an overconfident demeanor, but for all of his swagger, even Nucha Kri could be made to be nervous.

                The quiet, stately, imposing figure at his side observing the work made him _very nervous._

                "Your progress is not quite what was expected."  No matter how cultured the voice's timbre, the frosty overtones could not be—were not _meant_ to be—missed.  Nucha Kri resisted the impulse to cringe; instead he motioned expansively toward the particular workgroup before them.

                "But it is good, the work is good.  We _are on schedule, milord Tyranus."_

                "That is your assessment, but it is not my Master's."  Eyes colder than the depths of space in which Kri labored bored into the exotic foreman, and despite his natural inclination to defend his workmanship, the foreman dropped his own gaze under the fierce examination.  "The ancillary weapons systems are not completed as previously…discussed."

                A discussion, Nucha reflected; that had been extremely one-sided.

                "There's not enough anzite." Somewhat shorter than the stately Sith at his side, the foreman was compelled to look up to those cold irises.  "If we're going to build those systems to specs, we need more of it.  A lot more of it."

                "I am in…possession of a planet that has great promise as a source of weapons-grade anzite." Tyranus replied disdainfully, as if nothing the foreman could say would be of great import to him.  "You will have your materials and you _will_ come under deadline.  My Master wills it."

                Tyranus motioned loosely for the foreman to leave him to his inspection.  Nucha Kri bowed shortly and hurried away to attend to his new deadline.  Because if there was anything the exotic half-breed knew, it was that he did _not want to meet this master Lord Tyranus spoke of; he had the desire to enjoy the credits he was being paid for this job.  Staying alive was an inherent prerequisite for such enjoyment to actually take place.  Truly, the war that was being waged, for which this weapon was being created to augment and to ensure victory, mattered very little to him.  Whether Republic or their opposition, survival was all the same no matter who hired him._

                Still, when he had been recruited to spearhead this project he had not expected to be working hand in hand with a Sith.  There were almost as many rumors about them circulating on backwater worlds and in old tales to frighten children as there were about the Jedi.  And if the Jedi were to be feared, he didn't really want to know what he _should_ be thinking of his alliance with a Sith Lord such as Tyranus.

                Busying himself while the Sith occupied himself elsewhere, Nucha Kri decided that the best thing to do…

                …was to not think of it at all.

++++++

                Departing the _Silver Sunrise_ like a wraith in the night, a lone robed figure crossed the open area of the docking bay and slipped into the waiting embrace of shadows, steps purposeful and senses alert.  Solitary footsteps quickened, set the hem of the robe swaying in cadence to the sliding from one shadowy nook to another, byways and alleys between the ramshackle buildings the preferred means of travel.  It wouldn't be far; not enough time had passed and the odds were favorable.  After all, the southern portion of the tattered mining colony was not that large.  What the other two Jedi had been doing there was indeed something of a puzzle.

                Darting quickly along, the soft rapid footsteps were halted in mid-stride as a pair of hands grabbed and pulled and—

                "Padmé!"

                The hands that had pulled her aside belonged to Anakin, the young Jedi having double-backed upon realizing he was being followed and by _whom he was being followed._

                "You didn't really think I was going to let you go by yourself, did you?"  Her tone was earnest, but lightly accusing.  "Remember what I told you on Coruscant. I came here to _help_ you, not sit around and wait for you."

                "I don't know what I'm going to find, Padmé, but whatever it is, it got Master Thaile and her apprentice killed.  I don't want the same thing to happen to you.  Go back to the ship."  Anakin entreated, but as he might have expected it fell on deaf ears.  Padmé pushed past him to continue, and the tall apprentice moved quickly to catch up.  "Just…stay close, all right?"

                "I'm not a fragile piece of glass, Ani." She protested quietly but determinedly.  Anakin hesitated a moment, swallowing a little, before gathering her hand briefly in his own.  _I'm not made of glass, Anakin_.  Master Obi-Wan had said much the same thing…was it really only days ago?  And now…he could be dead already, although Anakin refused the thought outright.  _His life is mine to save._

                "Maybe not, but you're my heart." Anakin said softly.  "Be careful out here."  With that, he released her soft fingers and moved ahead, motioning for Padmé to follow along.  Stealth was something of an art for a Jedi; the Force could be molded to such a task, but it was trickier with a non-sensitive needing to be hidden as well, so as often as a shadowy passage proved safe, it was Anakin's first choice above trying to conceal them both.

                Even so, the two reached their destination in fairly short order, well before the mid-eve hour although for the astonishing lack of activity it might as well have been much later.  This section of "town" was as cobbled together as much of the rest of it, mostly temporary dwellings scraped together in rows, few amenities visible among them.  Sliding along under the cover of darkness, Anakin stretched out through the Force, seeking guidance in the absence of visible clues.

                "Hey, you! Over there…come here!"  A shout, a little distance away, startled Padmé enough to elicit a small gasp.

                "This way." Anakin whispered, making a small quieting motion.  Silently, they advanced on the origins of the shout and as they drew closer they could hear more voices and the shuffled sound of activity.  Cautiously, senses casting out through the Force all around them, Anakin led Padmé to tall stack of duraplas crating and hunched down next to her, peering through the small gaps in the upper and lower rack of containers.

                The area they had stumbled upon was a makeshift landing bay of sorts, mostly just a rough clearing on the outskirts of the dilapidated dwellings of the miners.  A ship of a type Anakin was unfamiliar with was settled in the center of the area and there appeared to be various crew loading the cargo bay from the stacks all around.  A disquieting sensation swept over Anakin, a large nudge that he had learned to recognize over the years as a warning of the Force through his instincts, and he glanced around sharply, his hand straying unconsciously toward his 'saber.

                "What is it?" Padmé whispered as she pulled aside the roughened cloak to reveal the blaster holstered at her side, compliments of Sabé's quick thinking back on Coruscant.

                "I don't know, I…"

                "C'mon, kid, get movin'!"  The shout interrupted Anakin's reply, drawing both their attentions back to the odd little ship.  The "kid" in question was a slender youth bending over a dropped crate and for the moment the young face was turned away, but as the figure straightened once again with the load, Padmé inched closer to Anakin.

                "That's him." She breathed.  "That's the boy from the bar, Josep Two."

                Anakin watched as the youth labored beneath what was obviously a burden too heavy for his slender shoulders and as the duraplas container fell heavily from his grasp a second time, the shouter, a burly foreman-type, strode over.  A sharp shove dropped the slender boy to his knees.  It is then that Anakin saw the piece that put together a large portion of the puzzle for him.

                "Look." He said breathily, directing his wife's attention. "A neural collar.  _That's_ why they asked Master Varou to help them, Padmé.  They're slaves!"

++++++

                A soft, faint sound caught Jeriya's attention long before she realized what it was; the anti-grav nodules that heralded the presence of Master Yoda's hoverchair.  The most honored of the Jedi entered the room slowly and deliberately; it seemed, Jeriya thought, a sadder look upon his face than she ever remembered seeing before.  Inclining her head respectfully, she paused a moment before looking back up.

                "Son of the Force is he."  Yoda's statement was poignant against the reality of Obi-Wan's senselessness to the living current all around them, and for a moment all Jeriya could do was gape at the diminutive Jedi master in astonishment.  "Doubt that, do you?" He challenged her, and waited as the young healer groped for words.

                "No, but…just…he can't even feel the Force, Master Yoda.  How could…how could it just…" Jeriya bit her lip a moment, hesitant in the presence of the respected teacher.  "…_abandon_ him like that, midichlorians or not?  Master Kenobi…doesn't even know _you're_ here, let alone the Force."

                "So sure of that, are you?" Yoda said gently, but firmly.  He could sense the young healer's heart within her; upset by the bitter pain Obi-Wan was made to endure at the hands of hatred, she spoke not from true doubt but from true compassion.  The small Jedi motioned to Jeriya, and she moved aside obediently.  Coming to hover at Obi-Wan's side, Yoda gazed down quietly at the silent face, blinking patiently after his own peculiar manner.  For a long moment there was nothing save the soft sound of rhythmic breathing.  Then…a deeper inhalation…a flicker of eyelashes…  "Not abandoned.  Ahh, much suffering there is…but never forsaken will he be."

                Jeriya looked down in some surprise at the hazy blue-grey gaze being directed toward the tiny Master.  There had not been any discernable effort made by Yoda to reach Obi-Wan, not that she could sense anyway, but now as the stricken Jedi struggled to focus his physical eyes on his visitor, she could feel the agonizing effort Kenobi was making to concentrate.  A slow pair of blinks…for a moment Jeriya thought they would lose him again to the semi-conscious state he had been in for the last several hours.  Obi-Wan drew in another deeper, deliberate breath; it seemed to gather his attention, attach him to the moment.

                "_Master…Yoda…"  The voice was weak and the words whispered, but it was his own effort, his own voice.  His own eyes were looking at the Jedi Master next to him, despite the dizzy feeling that swept through him momentarily from trying to focus his blurred vision._

                "Easy, Master Kenobi." Jeriya reached a hand toward him.  "Go slow."  A small green hand at her wrist suddenly stayed her motion, and she glanced toward Yoda.

                "Help him with this, you must not." Yoda pronounced quietly but not unkindly.  "Do this himself he should."

                Hesitantly Jeriya withdrew her hand, her attention going back to Obi-Wan, a silent apology in her eyes.

                "_It's…all right." Obi-Wan reassured her.  "__He's…he's…right."_

                "Alone now you will leave us." Yoda instructed the healer, raising his gaze to look at her squarely.  "Call you I will when finished we are."  Again Jeriya hesitated before she nodded deferentially and hurried from the room.  The sooner the purposes of this visitation were accomplished, the sooner she could return to Obi-Wan's care.  Yoda's perceptive, wise gaze returned to the pallid features of the Knight lying before him.  "Hmm…dreaming you have been, Obi-Wan."

                "_Yes…" Kenobi's answer, while whispered, was hardly surprised._

                "Sensed your distress I have.  Tell me this dream you must."  The request was not such an odd one coming from the aged Jedi Master, even now as Death hovered so close, hunting its prey.  Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly, gathering himself together the best he could to respond to Yoda's curious inquiry.

The subject of Obi-Wan's dreams had been a frequent one between them when he'd been a young Initiate.  Many of them had been insightful in nature, an odd way for the Force to guide; visions of that sort were rare enough during waking hours in one so young, let alone showing up in the realm of sleep, apart from conscious effort.  The dreams had faded as Kenobi had been taken as an apprentice, and the long discussions about them had gradually ceased.  His gentle admonition to Anakin that such dreaming passes away with time had been spoken out of his own experiences although he had not admitted that to his apprentice.  _Perhaps a mistake on my part.  He thought fleetingly._

"_It's…there's_…" Obi-Wan struggled to define the unsettling dream that had been plaguing him during the past few hours of disjointed consciousness.  "_A cold…place…I'm hiding…must be…unseen_." Obi-Wan continued determinedly.  "_It is…dark where I am…it's consumed…by…by…the Dark Side_."

"Hmm…yes, powerful it is.  Wants something, it does." Yoda agreed, his own mild impressions of Obi-Wan's vision—for that is what the Jedi Master knew it to be—in the forefront of his mind.  "What else do you see, Obi-Wan?"  He prompted, a sudden gentleness in his tone, knowing perhaps better than most how difficult this was becoming for the poisoned Knight.

"_Waiting…it's waiting for_..." Obi-Wan's disjointed explanation was interrupted by a soft, agonized gasp.  There was no disguising the pain radiating through him; Yoda knew it as clearly as if he were the one suffering.

"Hold on you must, Obi-Wan for the messenger you have become." Yoda's injunction was, as ever, cryptic but compassionate.  A moment later a small green hand rested lightly against his chest, and Obi-Wan sucked in another breath, startled, as the warmth of the Force gathered comfortingly around him as it had not in days now.  Pain diminished, his body relaxed, and his eyes gained a clearer focus than had been granted to them in quite some time.  For a long moment the aged Jedi remained so, sharing with Obi-Wan this measure of strength and relief.  Only when a soft, easy sigh passed through the younger Knight's lips did Yoda speak again.  "Tell me the rest now you can."  Obi-Wan drew in another steadying breath, grateful for the bit of release that had been afforded him, and he fixed his attention once more upon the small green-skinned Master.

"_He is…waiting for me_."  A little more strength was evidenced in the softly murmured words, and Kenobi's expression became one of thoughtful attention.  The gnarled hand that still laid upon him now moved to curl around his wrist, the contact unusual but hardly questioned; the pulse that beat between them through the Force was to Obi-Wan, as wondrous and amazing as the very first time this very same master taught his crèche clan to 'stretch out with your feelings, you must.'  The brief kiss of memory touched them both, and even as a faint smile crossed Obi-Wan's pale features, a matching spark of amusement showed up in Yoda's eyes.

"Remember well I do when first I knew you, yes." Yoda's voice reflected a quiet care that was unmistakable, something that few in the Order had ever understood, that even Obi-Wan himself was mostly unaware of.  From the time of Kenobi's induction into the Order, to this very moment, he'd been dubbed by those few Jedi as "The Beloved."  The one the Force—and Master Yoda—had folded to its bosom and graced with something singularly _apart_ from anyone else among the Jedi ranks.  For what purpose, no one really knew or even really speculated about.  But even as Obi-Wan's own master had been somewhat lacking in understanding of this rare affection of the Force—or any other affection, for that matter—a unique sort of guardianship had sprung up between this placid, ancient Jedi master and the insatiably curious ginger-headed youth.  "In much mischief you could be.  Followed you, trouble often did."

"_Trouble_..." Obi-Wan echoed, scattered thoughts returning to the dream, and he blinked slowly, tiredly.  "_There is…death.  Feel...death every…where…he…waits for me."_

"See him now, do you?  Waiting for you who is?" Yoda would not argue it now, the issue that Obi-Wan was dear to his heart; he would admit it without question before anyone who cared to ask, and the burden of having foreseen Kenobi's death was sadly painful.  And now he must press this suffering soul for things that he himself had no answers for and that no one but the two of them had felt in the night, not even Mace Windu.

"_Don't know_." Obi-Wan answered weakly, the reserve granted to him beginning to drain.  "_Hidden…can't see…waits to…to kill…me." The blue-grey eyes closed; a ragged breath as pain pressed in once more, cutting into already fragmented images.  "__Pain…so much…pain.  No one…to help.  No choice…"_

"Be still, now, Obi-Wan." Yoda calmed, his hand yet encircling Kenobi's wrist.

"_Master!_" Obi-Wan gasped a little, the dream's memory still unfolding as he searched his thoughts.  "_Master…Qui-Gon…calling…"_

"Asked too much of you I have, no more do I require.  Be easy now you must."

"_I don't…I don't under…stand_."  Obi-Wan opened his eyes again, confusion apparent in the gaze that was gradually becoming unfocused once again.  "_Can't…use…the Force to…sense you, Master Yoda but…it sends me…its…dreams?"_

"Simple, the understanding of this is." Yoda said, matter-of-factly and yet kindly as well.  "Sung to you always the Force has, from the day when brought to the Temple you were.  Hear _that_ melody no one does, but few, Obi-Wan.  Sings to you still, the Force does.  Only…" Yoda paused compassionately, a slightly tighter grip at the young Knight's wrist.  "Only more difficult to hear, has it become."

"_Sings_..." Obi-Wan echoed whisperingly, wonderingly.  The Force sings?  Was that what they had called it when as a young Padawan he once hummed non-stop for three days, the same few bars of notes seeming to haunt his steps from the moment he rose to the moment he slept?  With Master Qui-Gon looking at first bemused and then somewhat annoyed by the time the melody released him from its grip?  Even now, he remembered the tune…

Quietly, somberly, Yoda closed his eyes and bowed his head.  For coming from the lips of the weakened, dying Jedi before him was a soft, broken humming, the ingrained song of the Force, even as the moment of concentration faded away from the ashen face.  The small gnarled green hand moved now from its place at Obi-Wan's wrist, to lie gently upon his forehead.

"Kept you near to us, this song has, Obi-Wan." Yoda murmured, not quite loudly enough for the ill Jedi to truly hear, but almost as a blessing of sorts.  "Even when felt it you have not.  Cradle you to the end it will, and doubt it you must not; ever a son of light will you be."

++++++

                "That's _it…?"_

                Adi Gallia's disgusted exclamation was accompanied by a similarly irritated snort from Mace Windu, something that in other circumstances might have made her laugh, but this certainly was not other circumstances.

                "_Hey!  Look, lady…Master Jedi…whatever…" Adi's would-be paramour raised both hands and backed up several paces, unwilling to prompt another display of that exquisite laser sword.  "Like I said, I don't lift 'em, I just deal in stock parts."_

                Before the two Jedi and their reluctant guide, on a rather abused looking workbench, lay the partially disassembled transceiver component of Anakin Skywalker's speeder.

                "Were there any other…_stock parts_ that came along with this particular piece?" Adi snapped, reaching down to pick up the largest part of the unit, the part that still functioned and had returned their signal; the outer casing appeared to be in the process of being cleaned up and was scattered in several sections on the workbench.

                "Uhh…lemme see here…I aah…" The short human sputtered a bit as he rummaged around the area, looking through a battered container of various mechanical leavings.  Adi tapped a pair of fingernails idly against the hilt of her 'saber.

                Their guide rummaged faster.

                "You don't by any small miracle remember the name of the person who gave you such a good deal on this junk, do you?" Mace's tone was about as patient as he was going to get under these circumstances and Adi did smother a smile at that, glancing studiously at the transceiver module in her hand.  Mace glanced up. "What?"

                Adi merely arched an eyebrow at him before turning her gaze back toward their purveyor of stock parts.

                "My friend's not exactly a polished motivational speaker."  She removed her lightsaber from the clip at her side and casually inspected the smooth haft before pinning the petty thief with another piercingly blue gaze.  "But then again, neither am I so I suppose you'd better answer his question.  Who sold you these parts?"

                "_Okay! Okay, I'm receiving, loud and clear."  The man backed away from the workbench and the scattered pieces of equipment across it.  "His name's Rumo.  Real laser-brain, okay?  Runs with the speedrats above."  Above, in this instance, simply meaning a few layers of stale ruins higher than the one they were standing in.  "Time to time, he comes down this way and we do business."_

                "There now…" Adi said smoothly as she reattached her 'saber to its place on her belt.  "That wasn't so difficult now, was it?"

                "Speedrats?" Mace inquired, coming a few paces nearer to Adi and crossing his arms over his chest in a manner that said the other man had better not hedge this time about answering him.

                "Yeah, he's a speedrat.  Races everything…nyms, swoops, modified speeders, you name it.  Anything he can get a rush out of, he's riding.  His people maintain their own rides but sometimes they come down here to barter for some of the harder to find…accessories."  The mechanic rubbed his hands together nervously, glancing from one Jedi to the other.  "Rumo's good for making a credit or two betting, except when that kid's down here…pod-jock from the outer rim somewhere, they said.  I believe it too, the way that kid races.  I lose every time when he's down to play."  One didn't need to be Force-sensitive to catch the raising of eyebrows and curious glances traded between the two Jedi.  The anxiousness faded for just a moment and the hand-rubbing stopped.  "_Hey_…you're _looking_ for that kid, aren't you?"

                "You don't need to be concerned about that."

                Adi's hand was raised slightly, the inflection in her voice curiously magnetic.

                "I…uh…don't need to be concerned about that."

                "You can tell us where to find Rumo now."

                "Hey, Master Jedi…look I can tell you where to find that speedrat Rumo."

++++++

                "What are you going to do?"

                To Anakin, Padmé's whisper seemed like a shout into the void of a suspended moment of time.  The distance between himself and the slave Josep Two tunneled down into a singular line of concentration, when Anakin realized suddenly that his artificial hand was clenching the haft of his 'saber tightly enough to imprint the upper grip with a small indentation.  Nine years of ownership had been poured into that moment, the ever shifting desert sands of Tatooine almost a gritty taste in his mouth as he watched the boy struggle once more with the container.

                "We can't just leave them here." Anakin's own reply seemed hushed and solemn, a contract with himself that perhaps no one else could fully understand.

                "Uleare's withdrawn their senator."  Ever the politician, Padmé's training came to the fore.  "The anti-slavery laws don't apply here any longer."

                "What are you talking about?  Uleare is a part of armed opposition to the Republic." Anakin shot back, his whisper a tight hiss in the night.  "We'd be freeing prisoners of war."

                "I don't know if the Senate would agree with you." Padmé glanced up briefly into an expression of taut resolve.  "The way some have been pushing for the Order to be dissolved, this could just as easily be looked upon as a war _crime_."

                The look that Anakin turned on her now was almost that of a wounded child, the blue eyes haunted by things she wasn't sure she wanted to know about, things that had been impressed upon his young psyche as a slave-boy on Tatooine and permanently burned into his memory.

                "How can it be a crime to save people from being treated like property?" He asked her steadily, keeping his gaze on her for the moment.  "Was it wrong for Master Jinn to free me from Watto?"

                "No, of course not!  Don't put words in my mouth, Ani." A slight flush rose to Padmé's cheeks.  "I'm not talking about issues of right and wrong here.  I'm talking about influential members of the Senate with an active dislike of the Jedi, twisting your actions against the Order.  Whatever we do here cannot be allowed to be a flashpoint for more destruction against the Jedi."

                "As a Jedi, Padmé, I'm sworn to help them.  The Order isn't interested in self-preservation over allegiance to the Code.  Not at the hands of the Senate, anyway.  Besides…" Anakin returned his attention to Josep, who had enlisted the help of a companion under the watchful gaze of the foreman.  "…no one should have to be a slave."

++++++

                From her position above the roughshod landing area, she watched intently as the bright presence below ignited the blade that stabbed the night with blue brilliance.  And with the lighting of the 'saber blade came an ever-so-slight darkening of the presence that wielded it, like a dimmer switch being applied to a set of glow-rods.

                Such a pity; bright souls of his kind were so rare in this life.  In these perilous days they were rarer still.  That she was being asked to corrupt still further a heart that desired the right things for the wrong reasons weighed on her only slightly however; this boy would not be the first to have been under her hand for a time.  And while she had been asked to take special interest in this one Jedi apprentice, she knew that she did so only because she _chose_ to do so.

                She would not be owned.

                Never having sworn any sort of allegiance to Lord Sidious, or having been trained in her disciplines by either Light or Dark, she served her own purposes.  It was often merely a matter of principle that drew her to the special cases, like this one.  She had agreed to the instructions she had been given concerning Anakin Skywalker simply as a point of survival, acting on the knowledge that the power taking custody of the galaxy was not one she wished to have as an enemy.  Turning the boy's heart a little further into Sidious' grasp might have been her only bargaining tool, for even the dark lord himself would not be able to make use of the apprentice's pain as she would.

                The confrontation below would be short-lived even if the apprentice did not give in to the anger that prompted him to strike; there were few who would choose to defy that blade whether it was made use of or not, herself included although her talents could be classified as neither Jedi nor Sith.

                All of this was considered in the span of a breath, before the young Jedi below had emerged from his hiding place to confront the slavers.  Inhaling slowly, his observer slowly reached out a hand, spun a thin message into the air between herself and the young apprentice.  _The children will wait.  We must speak, Jedi, if you are to save your master_.

                Below there was a pause, hesitation on the part of the apprentice, 'saber glowing eerily in the dark; any moment now someone was going to notice that strange aura coming from the stacks and go to investigate.  It had nothing to do with being weak or strong minded; what she did now was not a mind-trick so much as it was pure mental communication.  _You wish to save Kenobi's life, do you not, young one?_  The question hung between them for a long moment like an inverted blade ready to fall.

Suddenly the lightsaber was deactivated, for a time obscuring her view as the inky darkness of night concealed the apprentice once more.  Only slightly—for he would have struck on behalf of the slaves—his presence brightened again, his hand stayed from doing the right thing in the wrong way and for the wrong reasons.  Revenge for his own childhood of bondage, however unconscious, would serve the purpose of freeing these beings only marginally; they would be free to go where they pleased but his own pain would remain, untouched and augmented by killing born of anger.  The one thing she had learned was that the Force, Light or Dark, was extremely jealous and possessive of its charges.  It was never a small thing to pledge oneself to its mastery.

The reply, however small, however momentary, was enough to both surprise her with its determination—and with its _power._

Yes.

++++++

                The directions they'd been given were precise enough to put them within a few paces of the hangar's poorly concealed "hidden" entryway, their passage marked by the scuffling of feet desperate to get away and hushed near-whispers from darkened shadows; the smell of fear almost as strong as the stench of decay.

                Fortunately none of their hidden pursuers were bold enough to attempt an attack against two Jedi, and even now as Mace and Adi looked around them there was a sudden skittering of feet and other various appendages as the beings scrambled to get away.  Curiosity didn't always pay down here.

                Adi reached out a hand, concentrating…directing.  A sudden loud screech of metal against metal could be heard and the entire false front of the hangar began to twist apart from its moorings, and with a sudden jerk, was pulled completely free to leave the entire bay open and vulnerable.  The shriek of metal was joined by the shrill shouts of voices, both human and otherwise, among the speedrats scattered throughout the structure, but neither Jedi paid the din much heed as Adi cast aside the torn, abused doorway with the Force and they both stepped in.

                Speedrats, techs and parts fairly scattered in all directions, the yelling becoming increasingly more frantic as they realized that it was not the local security forces storming in for a raid but actual Jedi Knights—in the flesh and looking singularly perturbed and yet rather…restrained, almost.  Not, to anyone's way of thinking, a particularly good combination.  Restraint, after all, like all other things could only be maintained for so long.

                When some of the racket had died down and Mace had fused some of the side doors shut with his lightsaber to ensure a captive audience, Master Gallia stepped forward, her blade ignited and her robes swaying with her graceful movements.

                "We're looking for a speedrat." She called out authoritatively.  "And we're pretty sure we've come to the right place.  Where is Rumo?"

                Nervous glances, shuffled feet, hushed and anxious whispers followed.

                "The lady asked a question." Mace interjected in his most no-nonsense tone.  "Very politely, I think."  Casually the purple blade swung lightly, hummed languidly, its tip chopping effortlessly through a bit of metallic casing, turning it into brightly glowing slag.  "I'd repeat it but I'm not as polite as she is."

                More frantic shuffles now, a couple of the rats pushing forward one of their own, amidst some vocal protest and scuffles indicating some resistance, and both Mace and Adi turn to observe the tall, gangly uncoordinated youth being propelled toward them with some haste.

                "Ru…Ru...Rumo." One of them squeaks by way of introduction, earning him a hard glare from their tall charge.

                "_Sshh!  Spice-brains!"_

                "Pleased to meet you, Rumo." Adi moved closer now, her own 'saber still ignited, and like Mace, she handled it offhandedly, casually, the threat implied but not overtly so.  "We've come to have a talk…we hear you do some stock trade in jacked parts for your racers."

                "Ah, ah…who told you that?" Rumo asked belligerently, trying his best to stand up to the Jedi scrutiny—doubled Jedi scrutiny at that—in his own youthful, rebellious way.  "Ah.  I run my races clean." He announced boldly, to which Adi merely raised an eyebrow.  "Well.  Ah.  The races aren't authorized, ah.  But I don't lift, no not Rumo.  Scavenge, yes, ah.  Steal, forget it."

                "And that's how you came up with these spare parts…scavenging?" Mace dumped out the few other pieces, odds and ends really, of the Jedi speeder that had come to be in the possession of the unsavory duo some levels below.

                "That ah…yes.  Ah, Jedi Master.  Rumo plays it clean…no lifted parts on my machines."

                Adi and Mace exchanged glances; Adi merely shrugged.  Whether it was the truth or not, it was more than obvious that parts from Anakin's speeder had seen this boy's hands before those of the black-marketers earlier.

                "So you don't…happen to know what happened to the driver of that speeder, do you?" Adi asked as casually as before, giving the gangly youth that piercingly blue gaze that provided her with willing answers, often.

                "Oh well…yeah, sure.  Ah…Ah that is Kimshe.  Races with the rats, he does.  Comes from somewhere on the Rim they say."  Rumo was more than willing to talk now; to his way of thinking for the two Jedi to be asking about someone else meant they weren't truly looking for him or to punish him, and therefore he was more than happy to provide any information that might shift attention to someone else if it meant keeping him out of a Sector detention cell.

                "'Kimshe'?" Adi echoed curiously, inclining her head a little.  The young speedrat nodded vigorously in affirmation.

                "Ah, ah, Jedi Master, Kimshe never tells Rumo of his name, oh no. Ah…Kimshe is a…what do you say…nickname.  Means…ah…wind-devil in my native speech."  The boy grinned; the challenge of racing the pod-jock from the Outer Rim had been an enjoyable one indeed.  "So sad to see him leave, ah…flies like the wind itself."

                "Leave?  Just where did…'Kimshe' go?  And just what made you think you could get away with…'scavenging' his speeder?" Mace was somewhere between curiosity and dread; this would be the answer, he knew, upon which everything hinged.  Rumo fidgeted anxiously a moment, eyeing the ignited purple blade briefly before replying.

                "Ah…He came dressed like you." A brief motion toward their Jedi robes.  "And seeing he was looking for…ah…ah…quiet passage away, Rumo knew he wouldn't…ah…require back the speeder.  It was good parts."  He shrugged a bit.

                Adi disengaged her 'saber and looked to Mace, disappointment registering in her eyes.

                "There's only one reason he would look for a _pilot_ and not try to charter transport and fly himself." She said softly, not wanting to believe it, but finally having to admit to herself that Mace had been right all along.

                "Showed Kimshe where to find what he was looking for." The nervous speedrat offered; anything to draw the heat away from him and the illegal races he ran.  "Ah, ah…I could direct you, ah, Jedi, to the place."

                "That won't be necessary." Mace replied shortly, deactivating his own weapon and clipping it to his side in a single, practiced motion.  "We're done here."


	22. Aunoth

Thank you all for being patient with me while I've had this "on the shelf" so to speak.  But we'll see if I can actually move this along now.  LOL Enjoy!

TWENTY-TWO

                The waning light of dusk was giving way to the brighter hues of neon and glow-lights all over the Coruscanti cityscape; even the farthest skylines sparkled as if holding captive a myriad of living stars pulled down from the heavens above.  The ruddy tints of the setting sun still tinged the sky, surprising for such an industrialized world where the very atmosphere was recycled to preserve its population.  The speeder traffic, as ever, was constant; beings from across the known galaxy flitting here and there among the towering structures, going on about their business, whatever that might be.

                Jeriya paused from her perusal of the shift from day to night long enough to activate a single glow-rod and to check on her patient before sitting down again.  Obi-Wan had not awakened in some time now, and to her way of thinking, it was a blessing of the Force that he was unaware of his distress, although it was difficult to see him this way.  She had been Kenobi's only company since Master Yoda's departure earlier, and as it often was with the terminally ill, it was a lonely duty.

                She sensed rather than saw his presence first, but when she spoke it was with the familiarity born of years of service together.  "Teija can't do it, can he?"

                "Don't count us out of this just yet." Obuk chided lightly.  "The last thing a Healer should be; is a quitter."

                "I know, Master."  She looked up at her former teacher, and Obuk could read it in her eyes; Obi-Wan was running out of time.  Jeriya watched as the willowy Healer stepped past her to Kenobi's bedside, gentle compassion in his touch as he placed his hands lightly upon the dying Jedi and stretched out into the Force.  She didn't have to see Obuk's face to understand his distress as he examined Obi-Wan, surveying the damage being done by the deadly toxin.

                "You should get some rest." Obuk noted as he worked.  He turned his head a little but didn't quite look back at her.  "You've been at it practically since the moment he was brought in."  There was no response, and Obuk did pause now, turning to look at his former padawan affectionately.  "Jeriya.  You will be no good to Obi-Wan if you can't think straight.  Go sleep.  I'll stay with him while you do."

                The young healer looked up now, her own eyes troubled.

                "And what do we tell Anakin if he…"

                "Padawan Skywalker will have his own burdens to bear, Jeriya." Obuk pronounced, perhaps a bit harsher than he'd meant to, and the slender Healer shook his head, setting wispy white hair quivering.  "Go on, I'll look after Obi-Wan.  I won't leave until you return, my Padawan."  It was a term of affection that Obuk still called her 'padawan' on occasion; Jeriya recognized his concern for her, and she hesitantly stood up, casting an anxious glance toward her patient.  Nodding once toward Obuk, she slipped from the room.

                As she made her way through the halls of the Ward, Jeriya recognized the truth to her onetime Master's prompting; her steps were a little unsteady from exhaustion and from the constant vigil.  Rubbing her eyes tiredly, she allowed herself to drop a notch below the state of alert she had maintained since Obi-Wan had been placed in her care, and her mind began to wander.

                The first place it wandered was to thoughts of Anakin Skywalker. Where was he? And what would happen if his master left this life and joined the Force before he returned?  At this moment, despite the admonishment of her mentor, that outcome was becoming more and more likely.  Jeriya paused, glancing back the way she'd come, knowing that Obuk would take great care with Obi-Wan, but somehow feeling as if she should have stayed at the poisoned Jedi's side.  Sighing softly, she turned herself back toward her quarters, knowing also that she would invite a rebuke if she disobeyed Obuk's injunction to rest.

                Turning the corner, the young Healer entered a large common area, a central hub that connected all areas of the Ward, including the living spaces allotted to the Healers and their apprentices and was startled to see Adi Gallia coming in from the main entrance.  Her mentor's mandate aside, she changed direction and crossed the space between herself and the graceful Jedi Master.

                "Master Gallia." Jeriya spoke before she'd quite reached Adi's side, and Adi looked up, her expression instantly becoming distressed at seeing the Healer here.  "No, no…" She hastened to reassure.  "Master Kenobi is still with us.  Master Obuk is seeing to him now."

                "I have come to speak with the Master Healer." Adi replied quietly, her eyes remaining troubled despite knowledge that Obi-Wan had not yet departed.

                "Anakin?" Jeriya reached out a hand, her own brows tucking into an anxious frown.  Adi simply shook her head, and that was enough.  Jeriya closed her eyes and drew a pained breath.

                "Master Windu has gone to speak with Master Yoda on the matter.  It's out of my hands now." Adi said gently, knowing as Jeriya did that any comfort Obi-Wan might have derived from the presence of his padawan, was now lost to them all.  "I don't know what the Council will do when and if Padawan Skywalker returns.  He may lose his place among us…unless…"

                "…unless he truly can save his master." Jeriya finished dejectedly, knowing just how slim that prospect really was.  Exhaling slowly, she shook her head a little before turning back toward Obi-Wan's room and motioning Adi onward with her.  Sleep would have to wait; her patient needed her yet.

++++++

                "What is it?" Padmé frowned, her whisper sounding almost unnaturally harsh against the light night breeze that had begun to blow; skittering refuse and leaves through the crating that formed their hiding place.  She lowered her blaster, Anakin's abrupt shift of intention leaving her curious—and taut.  Carefully she peered out between the stacks, reassuring herself that they hadn't been discovered despite the brief display of Anakin's 'saber blade.

                For a moment she received no reply; Anakin's lips were pressed tightly together in an expression of concentration, and Padmé looked around, trying to discern what it was that her husband was "listening" to. Finally crystalline blue eyes looked down at her, and there was something in them that made her shiver a little.

                "Go back to the ship, Padmé." Anakin commanded gently, but firmly. "Tell Khavi what we've seen here; maybe we can find a way to get these people out."

                "Where are you going?" The senator's frown deepened; there was something more happening here. She knew it by the look on Anakin's face, and when he spoke again she was not disappointed.

                "She's here." He said, his voice taking on a bitter, steely tone.  Padmé glanced over her shoulder, then back up at her husband, and she clasped his wrist; he still held the 'saber as if he would re-ignite it.

                "Who's here?"  Her voice was hushed and anxious.  In the wan light from the clearing, glittering hard blue eyes continued to look down at her, and Padmé instinctively backed up a step, although she did not break her grip at Anakin's arm.

                "Master Obi-Wan's assassin."  The Jedi padawan answered; his tone as hard as his eyes.  "And she will answer for what she's done."

++++++

                "There's no doubt in my mind…he deliberately defied the order of the Council."  Mace Windu paced as he spoke, arms folded across his chest.  "There's no knowing if Skywalker made it to Uleare; there has been almost no communication in or out of the system since the failure of Knight Varou's mission."

                "Hmm."  Yoda's soft grunt was like an admission of pain as the small Jedi's upturned eyes sought out the prowling form of his fellow Council-member.  For long moments neither Jedi spoke and in the heavy silence that gathered between them, Windu finally stopped pacing and turned to hold Yoda's gaze.

                "His abilities are such that…"  Windu drew in a deep breath.  "…he _may_ be successful."  It wasn't what he might have said in other circumstances, but there was no denying that such speculation could very well be true.

                "Success the issue is not." Yoda finally spoke, the gravelly tones deeply concerned.  "Nor young Skywalker's loyalty to his master; fault him for that we must not.  Dangerous however his situation; captured or killed he may be."  A soft sigh followed.  "Or worse…be tempted by the Dark Side."

                "We can't spare anyone to go after him." Mace moved now to sit near his companion, dark eyes troubled.  "Most of the field teams have returned but that whole sector is now under control of Separatist forces.  Anyone we send out there now will be a prime target.  Still…"  He crossed his arms yet again, as if to ward off a chill.  "…I don't like the idea of leaving him to it alone.  Ability or not, you said it yourself, that Padawan Skywalker is vulnerable."

                "Proposing what, are you?" Yoda's eyes narrowed slightly, his hands folding placidly over his gimer stick.  It was as if those clear blue eyes in the wizened old face could see straight through to the back of Mace's head, a talent that Windu had often wondered if it was a cultivated one, or just a gift.  With Yoda fairly pinning him to the wall with that look, Mace would vote for "gift" at this moment.

                "Let me go."  He said simply.  "No one else need know of this."  Windu shifted a little.  "I promised Obi-Wan I would return his apprentice to him…"  He straightened up.  "…let me keep my word."

                "You're not going anywhere without me."  The voice that interrupted them made Yoda look up curiously and Mace cringe.  "What?"  Adi Gallia continued as she fairly glided into the room.  "You didn't think I knew you were up here trying to talk Master Yoda into this?"

                "I just got done making the point that we can't risk a field team." Windu raised his eyebrows at Gallia in askance.  "You were on Varix; you know that whole sector is highly volatile."

                "Since when," Adi replied calmly, "have risks and danger ever dictated to us?  They certainly didn't when we went after Obi-Wan on Geonosis.  If Master Yoda hadn't returned from Kamino with that clone army, where would we be now?  Did they stop me from taking Luminara with me to Varix? We went because this is what we were born to do." She spread her hands a little. "We _are_ Jedi.  This is our place in the universe.  It's war, not a sparring match."

                "Weigh the risks now we must." Yoda interjected solemnly.  "Correct you are, Master Gallia, but to lose two Council members…now more than ever, afford that we cannot."  Wise blue eyes looked at first one, then the other, of the two Jedi standing before him.  "Still, even greater the danger will be if lost Padawan Skywalker becomes.  Strong the Force is with him, but impatience his undoing may be.  Allow him to be destroyed we must not."  Yoda came down from his chair, pacing slowly, thoughtfully.  "Go to Uleare you will." He finally said, taking in both Windu and Gallia with a small sweep of his hand.  "Together you will search this out.  Return with him if you can."

                Mace nodded and, gathering Adi along in a quick glance, strode from the chamber.  Adi followed closely, leaning over to murmur,

                "Now, that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

                "Watch it, you." Windu threatened lightly. "Or I'll have you locked in the meditation closet they're bound to seal Skywalker in for the next standard month."

                "Mace," Adi patted his shoulder consolingly.  "Don't argue with me; you're a rotten loser."  A twinkle of azure eyes and a silvery laugh, and then she pulled away, striding rapidly down the hall, all business.  "You arrange supplies; I'll get us a transport."

                The race, Windu concluded with a soft sigh, was on.

++++++

                It was nearly dawn by the time he found her.

                The touch at his mind earlier had been like a handful of breadcrumbs; Anakin knew he couldn't afford letting the trail to go cold.  Still, as he sought her elusive presence, he was cautious, not willing to be drawn into a trap with his master's life as bait.  Obviously if she was a hunter of Jedi, that was her plan, and so as he'd undertaken his search in the middle of the Ulearean night, every sense was on high alert, awareness pulsating around him like a heartbeat.

                So it was that, when he discovered her crude dwelling, he was amazed that he should find her so simply.  It was as ramshackle as the miners' shelters; gaining access was certainly no challenge.  But to his puzzlement he could sense her merely _waiting_ within.  With some measure of satisfaction, Anakin ignited his 'saber and kicked in the door; within moments he stood with the blue blade glowing eerily beneath his adversary's chin.

                "I was wondering," Her physical voice was as soft and smooth as shimmersilk, taking Anakin by surprise for a cold-blooded murderer, "how long it would take you to get here."

                "As fast as I could." Anakin replied; his voice hard and his expression even harder.  "My Master deserves more than to die for a hunter's trophy.  Who hired you to kill Jedi?"

                The woman gazed at him steadily, unblinking.  The tip of the 'saber was close enough for her to feel the energy, almost close enough to singe her skin, but she didn't move.

                "And will your master be served better by my death?" The honeyed voice murmured again, her eyes catching Anakin's attention.  They were green, so very green as to give the appearance of a Sharusha kitling.  _Likely with claws to match_. Anakin thought to himself.  But there was no faulting the logic of her statement; he would have no prize with which to reclaim Obi-Wan's life if it died with her.

                "Maybe." The apprentice answered threateningly, but he removed the 'saber blade from beneath her jaw.  He did not extinguish it, however, holding the weapon loosely at his side.  "I know _I_ would be served better by it."

                "Perhaps."   The heavy-lidded gaze now grew soft.  "But that is not what you've been taught, is it young Jedi?  Your needs come behind those of others.  Even," She picked at a spot on her sleeve a moment before looking back up. "…at the cost of your own Master."

                "As if you cared about either my needs or my Master's." Skywalker spat out, and the weapon at his side wavered dangerously, as if he would snap it up to her chin once more.  Unperturbed, the woman simply rose and, turning her back on him, walked toward the small kitchen area of her dwelling.  "Who hired you to kill Jedi!" He demanded again and for a moment he was met with silence.

                "I am not your Master's enemy." She replied quietly, but it was with the sort of force of conviction that eerily told Anakin that she was speaking the truth.  "Nor have I ever raised a hand against a Jedi."

                "Why did you bring me here?"  Anakin did power down his lightsaber now, although he continued to hold it in his hand.  "What are you called?"

                "Your anger is misdirected." She looked up from the counter where she had begun to prepare a light morning meal.

                "Anger leads to the Dark Side." Anakin snapped defensively, somehow feeling the need to justify himself to this woman.  Once again, deep green eyes seemed to hold his blue ones as she looked at him frankly.

                "It's not the first time you've been angry." She said matter-of-factly, returning her attention to the odd looking little fruit she was chopping up.  "The Tuskens on Tatooine knew you when you were angry."

                All time seemed to freeze in an instant and Anakin's blood ran cold. No one outside of Padmé knew about Tatooine, no one.  He gripped the haft of his 'saber tightly, his thumb sliding toward the switch, a fearful thrill running down his spine.

                "What do you know about Tatooine and…?"

                "And how?"   She finished his sentence for him, slender hands throwing the fruit slices into a small bowl.  It was disconcerting, her casual continuation of life while they discussed her possible death.  Anakin blinked a little.  "Anakin Skywalker, I know more than you imagine.  Every man, woman and child in that camp were intimately acquainted with your…anger."  At Anakin's shocked expression, the woman waved one of those exquisite hands in his direction. "No fear, my Jedi friend, your secret is safe with me."

                "You seem to have me at a disadvantage." Anakin said tightly, his voice controlled but only marginally so.  "What are you called?" He repeated, keeping a distinct distance from her, wary, his hand continuing to grip his lightsaber.

                "My real name is likely much too long and difficult for a good rendition in Basic."  The woman said good-naturedly, giving Anakin a curious look.  "But you may know me as Aunoth.  It's the closest thing to a…nickname that I have."

                Skywalker nodded once, filing the name away for reference.

                "You said that you are not my Master's enemy." He restated carefully, stretching out into the Force, trying to gauge this woman's responses.

                "That is correct. I am not." Aunoth said…and that was the honest truth. She had no grudge against Jedi in general and certainly not this one in particular; a stranger whom she had never met.

                "Are you _my_ enemy?" Anakin asked the question guardedly.  Despite the sense of veracity that he had of her statements so far, he had no intention of trusting whatever answer she may give him.  Part of him still believed that this woman was the would-be assassin of his Master, and he was not about to let that go.

                "Doesn't your Force tell you that, Jedi Skywalker?" Aunoth countered, and those green eyes flickered upward to regard the tall padawan before her curiously.  "Do I _look_ like your enemy?"

                Strangely enough, Anakin reflected suddenly, on that point the Force seemed silent.

++++++

                It seemed a logical enough point of investigation to Adi to look into the original transport that had carried Obi-Wan and Anakin on their aborted mission to Uleare; perhaps there would be clues there that might lead them to the wayward apprentice once they reached the system.  The _Moonrise Trader's_ routes had been altered thanks to the war; her charter now took her on a route far from the Charmadis Sector and the current front lines, but she wasn't interested in traveling the entire journey on a slow pleasure cruiser anyway.

                "Once we reach Yhesk," Gallia explained as they exited the air-car that had ferried them from the Temple to the _Trader's_ landing platform, "we are chartered aboard the stock freighter _Anara_ to take us in to Uleare.  Apparently war zones haven't disrupted the ore trade from the system too badly."

                At that, Mace's eyebrows went up.

                "You can't be serious.  The war's disrupting everything and Uleare certainly doesn't have the corner on kelde ore."  He inclined his head a little.  "Black market?"

                "Uh hmm.  Apparently someone has enough credits to keep the flow of business running out there.  The _Anara_ is a stock trade freighter that, according to the information I have, makes six or seven runs through the Charmadis Sector every week hauling kelde ore and anzite as their primary cargo.  Her captain isn't above making a few extra credits so I…talked her into giving us a ride out there."

                "Talked her into it. Uh huh." Windu gave her a wise look, and Adi merely shook her head.

                "Her name is B'hri Chandel."  Gallia continued with her briefing as they crossed the wide expanse of the platform toward the _Moonrise Trader_.  "Nhomi freelancer running her operations out of Ord Mandel from the information I've acquired.  She's had dealings with everyone from the Hutts to the Trade Federation and half a dozen Corellian syndicates, as well as some hefty legitimate charters for the Republic Senate and sovereign systems like Alderaan and Keskus."

                "Lady gets around." Mace noted curiously.  "Associates?"

                "Very few.  She prefers to take charge of her own operations so she has no partners and her information pipeline is very hard to track.  Near as I could discover on short notice, just a handful of contacts scattered throughout the Core and Mid-Rim.  Force only knows how much riffraff she associates with in the Outer Rim, particularly since she's dealt with the Hutts." Adi shrugged. "Her intel must be good if she's running operations through the war zone."

                "It would have to be." Mace nodded, scratching his chin a little.  "I wonder who her sources are in Charmadis."

                "Not a clue." Gallia replied cheerily, passing Windu by to go aboard.  "But if we're lucky, for a few more credits we might be able to secure that information."

                "A few more?" The dark-skinned Jedi shook his head as he climbed the boarding ramp behind her.  "And just where do you propose to get _those_ from?"  That silvery laugh floated back from Adi.

                "How much do you have in your pocket?"

++++++

                Obuk had finally managed to shoo Jeriya away for some much-needed rest, despite the young Healer's obvious concerns, and had taken up station nearby Obi-Wan, watching over him with all the care that he ever had during the ginger-headed Knight's tenure in the Temple.  There had been a few close-calls over the years, to be sure; stints in the bacta tanks and long recoveries.  A serious case of yaele fever that had nearly taken Obi-Wan from his master before his training could begin in earnest, the anxious days passing with Qui-Gon sitting stubbornly at his apprentice's side until the fever finally broke twelve days after the young padawan had collapsed in the sparring 'round.  Obi-Wan had been…fourteen then, Obuk mused.  Not much had changed over the years, he reflected with a soft chuckle.

                "_What…what's so…funny?_"  Obi-Wan's soft, breathy, tired voice intruded and Obuk looked up from his reverie to see the suffering Knight looking at him.  Well…not really _looking_ at him; Kenobi's eyes were glazed and unfocused.  But despite it, there was an almost soft smile on the dying Jedi's face.

                "Just recalling the first time I ever met you, Obi-Wan Kenobi." Obuk said lightly, his usual acerbic sense of humor lacing his tone.  "You had just mastered the art of breaking half a dozen windows with the Force."

                Obi-Wan's laughter, while extraordinarily weak, was sincere.  The lesson had been one in control, in learning to direct a Force-hit against a moving target.  A _fast_ moving target, as Obi-Wan recalled.  And his initial effort had been something…less than stellar.  Or, conversely, it had been nothing short of spectacular, if the sight of erupting shards of glass everywhere counted as such.  It was one of the few and rare times that Master Qui-Gon had been struck speechless.  Six windows in the observatory above the training area had been totally demolished and the resulting shower of glass had gained Obi-Wan the singular scars that still graced his right hand and forearm.  None of the cuts had been all that serious, but he'd had to come up to the Ward to make certain all the glass fragments were completely removed from his skin.

                "_We…we didn't…try that one…again for…awhile_."  Obi-Wan acknowledged with a faint smile.  "_Master Qui-Gon…made me…clean up…every bit of…glass_."

                "As I recall," Obuk mused, "Master Yoda found the entire incident to be somewhat amusing."  At that, the Healer shook his head a little.

                "_Hh…he wasn't…in the…upper deck. Master…Windu was…though. He…ww…was somewhat…less amused_."

                "Rest easy, now, Obi-Wan." Obuk calmed, placing a slender hand against Kenobi's chest; he didn't like the labored sound that was starting to punctuate Obi-Wan's breathing.  Stretching out into the Force, Obuk tried to assess the condition of his patient's lungs relative to the virus' activity.  A little gentle assistance, and Obi-Wan took a deeper breath, and Obuk nodded a little.  "You're having a little difficulty, I see." Obuk said gently, and his hand remained resting lightly against Obi-Wan's chest, providing aid through the Force while he turned slightly, holding out his other hand and calling to himself a breather unit. Activating the small power generator at the base of the small mask, he carefully fitted it over Kenobi's mouth and nose.  A small adjustment and then Obi-Wan was breathing easier, with less pain and the relief was immediately visible.  "Better?"

                A slight nod from Kenobi, and Obuk patted the back of his hand as he might have done for the Knight when he was a young Initiate, and then the Healer once again settled back into his chair, watching and waiting.

                Waiting to say goodbye. He couldn't bring himself to admit the fight was out of his hands now. He couldn't allow himself to consider the failing of his promise to Qui-Gon Jinn.  He smiled briefly, fondly at the thought of the long-departed Jinn; he had been as close as anyone to the maverick master and even now it pained him to think that everything that they had fought and suffered for might very well perish with this young Jedi Knight, including Anakin Skywalker.

                Anakin…to think of the young man now was difficult.  Trying to bleed bitterness off into the Force, Obuk shook his head to himself.  Master Gallia had confirmed Mace Windu's earlier fears about the boy having defied the Council.  The headstrong padawan was staking a huge risk upon the life of his master; the odds against him far outweighed those for him.  While there was no denying the difficulty in watching Obi-Wan deteriorate, Obuk was certain that this gamble would only gain the boy the additional weight of guilt for his master's loss.  Anakin tended to carry things close to his heart; he would take the responsibility of Obi-Wan's death onto himself.  Not an easy burden for anyone to carry, let alone a young apprentice not yet Knighted.

                That was assuming, of course, that Skywalker survived to carry it.

++++++

                "Are you hungry?"

                The question came almost as an afterthought it seemed, and Anakin looked up, startled by it.  His 'saber had not yet left his hand and he could scarcely believe he was having a…civil conversation with Master Obi-Wan's attacker.  Blue eyes narrowed a bit, and he sullenly, silently shook his head.  "An attitude like that won't get you very far in the quest you are on, young Jedi."  Aunoth said smoothly.  "Come.  Eat and regain your strength; you have journeyed far through the night."

                Anakin exhaled slowly in irritation; his stomach was already growling with the suggestion of food and to be baited with it, along with the answers he sought, was enough to deepen the scowl he wore.

                "What do you know about my Master?" He finally demanded, tired of being kept waiting while this woman casually went about her business right in front of him.  Aunoth looked up, her gaze perceptive as she picked up her meal and glided into the room.

                "I know that he lies on the point of death." She said softly, and it had the desired effect.  Anakin's expression…indeed his whole body…tightened and he swallowed hard.

                "Is he…?"

                "Still alive?" Aunoth took a bite of her breakfast as if discussing nothing more important than the weather outside.  "Yes, he is…but he now requires assistance to breathe.  It won't be long, young one, now."  She looked up, her gaze hooded beneath thick lashes.  "You might have done better to be at his side than to waste your time with me."

                "_Liar!_" Anakin shouted, leaping forward and with a single sweep of his prosthetic hand, knocked aside the bowl in Aunoth's hands, spilling the contents within across the floor and dashing the fragile pottery against the far wall.  "Tell me what you know."

                "Or…what?"

                "Or you die when he does."  The words were bitter and harsh, and Aunoth merely raised an eyebrow as she watched the slow fading in the bright aura once more.

                "You're welcome to try, my Jedi friend but I doubt that you would get very far."  Her voice was cool, reserved, not quite threatening.  "Besides…why would you kill me when the answers you seek have been within you all along?"  Gracefully she rose, pausing mere inches before the angry apprentice.  "I told you that I am not your Master's enemy."

                "So you did." Anakin conceded, although the tight set in his bearing remained.  "If that is true, then you also know _who_ Master Obi-Wan's real enemy is."

                "Very perceptive, young one."  Aunoth moved on now, to a sleeping area nearby; it was not closed off from view, neither did she seem very concerned with modesty as she stripped away now food-stained clothing in plain sight of the padawan she baited.  "I do indeed know of whom you speak."

                "Then tell me who he is.  I want to know where I can find him."  Anakin had unconsciously taken two paces forward, despite any attempt at control he could have made.  The woman before him did not speak as she made her way into a fresh tunic and picked up a nearby sash, but as she turned back toward the tall apprentice she met his gaze evenly.

                "You don't have far to go to find him." She said huskily as she tied the sash around her waist.  Anakin fairly fidgeted on his feet in his impatience, and Aunoth suddenly stepped close once more, her green eyes boring into him with an intensity he had never seen matched anywhere.  "You want to know who he is?"  He could feel her breath on his skin, she was so close, and her voice fell to a deep whisper.  "Your Master's enemy is…_you…_"

                Anakin stood stock still, the blood freezing in his veins as Aunoth glided on past him, her velvety voice whispering again, "_It's you…_"

++++++

                The tight squeeze between the stacks was enough to feel claustrophobic, but worse than that was the total darkness and the disorientation that it brought.  They had to have gone to hyperspace by now; it felt as if this cramped darkness had existed forever.

                Cautiously, slowly, Padmé crept out from between the tall, anti-gravity lashed stacks of duraplas crates and turned on the tiny palm-light she'd brought with her.  The hold was a fairly large one by most standards, and had the heavy metallic smell of freshly mined ore, a thin layer of Ulearean dust coating everything.

                She explored her surroundings carefully, until she found what she was looking for: a small pressure maintenance hatch halfway up the wall on the near side of the compartment.  Taking the palm-light's belt clip between her teeth, Padmé grasped the rungs of the small access ladder running parallel to the hatch and started to climb.

                All it had taken was a lapse in the slavers' attention and the advantage of the darkness to slip into their cargo hold; just why she had done so when Anakin had urged a return to the _Silver Sunrise_, Padmé wasn't sure, especially after she had counseled him not to try to rescue the children.  Perhaps it was simply a sense of duty, or perhaps a sense of compassion despite her fears for the political consequences that she had voiced earlier.

                Perhaps it had simply been the haunted look that had been in her husband's eyes as he faced the specter of his past in the broken faces of these young ones.  Whatever it was that drove her now, she climbed the ladder until she was even with the maintenance hatch, examining its control pad to try to gain entry.  It turned out to be a fairly standard access pad; non-coded, surprisingly enough, and hopefully not rigged to trip a sensor or alarm on a bridge panel.  The palm-light still clenched between her teeth, Padmé stretched out from the rungs of the ladder and pulled herself into the maintenance shaft, sealing the hatch behind her.


	23. Grey Perception

Believe it or not; I'm still alive! If any of you still care to read, voila! The next installment of my monster. Enjoy!

TWENTY-THREE

"There, you see?" Even bored, the cultured tones were still authoritative. Lord Tyranus watched from his observation point as the ship came into its landing bay with something less than finesse from its pilot. "Two more shipments of anzite are scheduled to arrive within the day."

To his right, Nucha Kri merely nodded as the cargo ramps lowered and several young people scurried out of the vessel to unload the cargo, under the watchful eye of crew and bay workers. He shivered a little but tried to suppress it; he didn't hold with the notion of slaves himself and he knew that these young workers certainly weren't volunteers. Many of them were Ulearean; some were from other places in the Charmadis Sector like Varix and Dhalis, and some were from far-flung Outer Rim territories. None of them, he tried to tell himself, were any of his concern.

Tyranus smiled thinly; he was aware of the supervisor's distaste for slave labor, among other things. It was a terrible waste as with the water girl on Dhalis II, but a necessary step forward in creating the stabilizing structure that the galaxy so desperately needed. In time, he was convinced; these things would become temporary as the emerging order of his master's vision unfolded. All that he had hoped and dreamed for as a Jedi, yet never saw, would come to pass in his lifetime; he could sense it, fairly taste his stake in the scheme of things as they would be—as they _should_ be—and all this unpleasantness would be far behind them.

"The ancillary weapons systems will be back on schedule with this material, milord." Kri observed as the stacks of anzite were moved from cargo hold to anti-grav sleds. "Once that is complete, you will be able to make better use of your resources in this sector, eh?"

It was, Tyranus recognized, a poorly disguised attempt on Kri's part to come out from under the watchful eye of his employer, a reference to the Separatist warships that patrolled the system. The regal, stately bearing grew frosty.

"Perhaps it is your own resources you should be making better use of, Foreman Kri." Tyranus motioned loosely toward the cargo ship and the bustling unloading process, taking place. "Or my Master may be forced to…_reconsider_ his contract with you." The implied threat was not lost on the exotic foreman, who hastened to reassure that such 'reconsideration' was unnecessary, and after a moment, Tyranus nodded. "Very good. My Master will be pleased with your continued…cooperation."

"Of course, Lord Tyranus." Kri hated groveling.

"Upon receipt of today's final shipment, I will return to my ship; the war effort is advancing against a somewhat more…ambitious target. Continue to inform me of your progress, Foreman Kri. We will be very interested to hear your reports."

"As you wish, milord." Nucha Kri inclined his head respectfully, even though respect had very little to do with the action. He was simply more than willing to be rid of this Sith Lord's presence, to finish his job, and more than willing to get out, preferably alive and hopefully paid. He'd begun to hear things from his people; things that he was willing to concede were more than just old tales or superstition and the more he heard the less he liked this deal no matter how many credits were attached to it.

Tyranus spared the exotic overseer a cold, sidelong glance, the sort of look that made even overconfident men like Nucha Kri cringe.

"Very well, Foreman. Your…tour…has been most enlightening." With that, the Sith turned aside with a regal sweep of his cloak, striding away to prepare his ship and to receive instructions from his Master. Nucha Kri watched him go with the expression of a person eating sourfruit.

That final shipment couldn't get here fast enough.

* * *

Despite being quite possibly the most disagreeable person she'd ever met, Adi Gallia's overall perception of Jeric Taran was that of an efficient, able captain if something of a tyrant in the eyes of his crew. For his own part, Taran believed himself cursed to score a pair of Jedi on his vessel even more annoying and persistent than the first two. Neither party was that terribly disappointed when the Jedi departed the _Moonrise Trader_ at Yhesk after interviewing most of the _Trader_'s crew and, in Captain Taran's opinion, having been extraordinary nuisances.

Very little had been uncovered during their voyage on the liner aside from a few of the galley crew reporting the disappearance of a young conscript during the same journey on which Obi-Wan had been poisoned and several colorful versions of Anakin's confrontation with the captain from various members of the bridge crew.

"Accomplice?" Adi wondered discreetly as they considered the missing crewmember, earning a disapproving look from Mace.

"Unlikely. Assassins aren't noted for sharing the profits from their contracts. If the crewman _was_ used, he's dead by now; no one to identify our boy after the attack on Obi-Wan." Windu's voice was also low; like the lower levels of Coruscant, the particular area in which they currently traveled wasn't exactly tourist property. The dark-skinned Jedi glanced about, senses extended around them. "Are you _sure_ this is where we're supposed to be?"

"Relax. I had a rather entertaining conversation with Chandel's contact. This is the place all right; there are very few Vrani who can resist a good mind-trick."

"Good? As opposed to what?" Windu raised a curious eyebrow at his companion. "You could talk an Alderaanian bloodstone into changing its color." He received a somewhat pleased smile in return.

"What's this? A _compliment?_" Adi's tone was amused. "I'm impressed."

"You're imagining things." Mace shot back, just as they turned the corner and came to a beat-up, makeshift docking slip. Moored to the platform with simple gravity tethers was a transport that was just as battered if not more so. "The _Anara_, I presume."

"Not bad, for a Jedi." The gravelly voice was distinctive of the Nhomi, and along with their placid, near synthetic-looking features made it impossible to hazard a guess at the age of a Nhomi adult. B'hri Chandel could have been thirty-five, sixty-five or two-hundred-five and there would be no variance with which to tell by sight or sound. The sarcasm, however, wasn't lost on either Mace or Adi despite the strangled-sounding tone. "Welcome aboard the _Anara_, but you'd better hurry up. My Tirolaon brandy and I are honored guests at the celebration of the First One's installation on Vahqun."

"Now we've seen everything." Mace muttered under his voice to Adi. "A smuggler on the social circuit." The comment drew what passed as an amused chuckle from the Nhomi, a slight wave of a slender six-fingered hand.

"If you'll get aboard we'll see to your own social schedule." Chandel remarked off-handedly, as she preceded them up the boarding ramp. "Uleare hasn't exactly been the most welcoming place for Jedi these days."

"And what would you know about that?" Adi asked casually as she followed the smuggler, with Mace at her heels.

"It's my business to know everything about my charters." B'hri replied assuredly. "I do my homework. I know that a couple of your friends got themselves killed out there, and believe me, I thought about this charter very hard before I decided to take it. I don't particularly like the idea of finding myself at the dangerous end of a blaster because of my taste in passengers." Chandel paused, waiting for the two aforementioned passengers to board completely before closing the hatch.

"And what made you finally decide to take us on?" Mace asked curiously.

"Your friend is very persuasive." B'hri nodded toward Adi Gallia, and then gave Mace what passed as a smile among her people. "I don't like the prospect of going out of business at the end of a lightsaber any better. Get strapped in and I'll get us off this rock." With that, the Nhomi pilot moved off toward the cockpit and Mace gave his companion a curious look. Adi smiled demurely.

"I told you I talked her into it."

* * *

"What…what do you mean?" Anakin stammered; the shock of Aunoth's words enough to blunt the force of his ire. He stared after the slender woman in disbelief as she knelt to retrieve the shattered bowl he had slapped aside. "I'm trying to _save_ my Master."

"Perhaps you will." Aunoth looked up briefly. "But that changes little." She rose with the shards of ceramic in her hands and speared Anakin with another of those looks that seemed to stare right through him. "You _are_ a danger to him, young one, whether you know it or not." It was as close as Aunoth could come to warning him of Lord Sidious' designs without risking her own skin. "Your abilities can make you a powerful Jedi. Or they can be your undoing…and his."

"Tell me what you know." Anakin shifted now, still watchful, still wary but bending to pick up a pair of pieces that Aunoth had missed. As he straightened with the fragments clenched between the fingers of his prosthetic hand, he hesitated a moment. "Please."

Aunoth looked up from where she was washing slender hands, the 'please' drawing both her attention and her pleasure, displayed by the slight smile that curved her lips.

"Oh, much better. I was just waiting for you to be reasonable, my young Jedi friend." She said silkily. "Come now. Sit and eat and I will tell you what you need to know to save your Master."

Anakin regarded her suspiciously a moment longer before taking the few steps between them and handing her the ceramic leftovers of her bowl. As the tall padawan finally turned his back on her long enough to walk across the room to one of the closer chairs, the smile deepened. "Much better, indeed."

* * *

"C'mon. You mean you're just gonna sit around here, waiting to be picked up or something, just because you didn't get a goodbye note from the lady?"

"Shut up, Jash." Khavi Solo glared at his copilot. "You can't tell me that you haven't been enjoying what goes for local entertainment. I don't think it will hurt you to give me a hand here. Besides, for a Galactic Senator, the 'lady' isn't stupid. She's only paid me half of what they promised. I'm not leaving this mud-ball until I get the rest of my credits."

"If you say so, boss." Jash shrugged a little, loping up the boarding ramp of the _Silver Sunrise_ in long strides. "I think you're just a little soft for those big pretty eyes."

Khavi bent his head back to his work on one of the _Sunrise__'s_ lift thrusters, letting the comment slide with a shake of his head. Keeping his people close was a matter of convenience. Keeping his ship ready was a matter of staying busy—and staying alive. He had the feeling that when they _did_ leave, they were going to be leaving in a hurry. Not that he would admit such a thing to Jash or even to Lera, but he was concerned about the Jedi kid and the Senator who was so obviously enamored of him. Neither of them had returned as of yet and it was well into the morning already.

He had to give the Senator some credit as she'd gotten off the _Sunrise_ without any of them knowing and there was no telling what time she had gone or in what direction. If she was trying to trail after her companion, she could be anywhere and if the kid had run into trouble; he could be as dead as his predecessors to this rotten little rock were.

According to Jash, there was no reason really for him to stay; even at six thousand credits, it hadn't been a bad haul since there had been no real difficulty navigating around the battlegroup prowling the sector. On the other hand, aside from the other six, his main investment was in getting out alive. A rather motivating investment, to be sure but oddly enough, one he wasn't sure he could protect without getting his passengers out alive, too. The last thing he needed was more Jedi breathing down his neck about the whereabouts of their golden boy and a Republic Senator; it would be bad for business. Therefore, for the moment, he was staying put whether that was popular with his copilot or not.

"I'll give 'em a day. If they're not back by then, we cut and run. That suit you all right, Jash?" Khavi offered up as the lanky copilot came back down dressed in a tattered jumpsuit that had seen many hours tinkering around the battered _Silver Sunrise_.

"Suits me about as much as draggin' that Jedi speedrat off in the first place, to a planet that has the un-welcome mat all laid out for visitors of his kind." Jash replied with a shrug, hunching down to look at a burned-out binary connector. "It's your ship, Khavi but just a reminder that credits don't do the dead any favors."

"What are you talkin' about?" Solo shot back, reaching into the innards of the thruster assembly, working his fingers into the finer mechanics to complete his repairs. "We're not going to be dead. Nobody knows we're here except the local spice-heads and whoever's been listening to you talk in your sleep."

"I don't talk in my sleep." Jash grumbled, reaching over toward his captain. "Give me those micro spanners." After a moment, he looked back at Khavi and, realizing that the pilot was nearly arm-deep in mechanics, shifted his own weight to reach back and pick up the tool himself. "I'm just saying that I don't want to still be here if any of his buddies come looking for him. Doesn't matter who we know on Coruscant; I don't like the idea of being stuck for harboring a renegade Jedi. Or whatever."

"We'll be long gone before anybody gets around to showing up here." Khavi peered around the landing strut to give Jash a wise look. "There's a war on out there, remember? The Jedi are up to their necks in trouble."

"So will we if we're not careful." Jash replied, but then shrugged. "All right. One day. After that, I say we get out of here. We've got a line on half a dozen charters that'll make us as much or more money as this one was supposed to." The copilot had worked his hand into a tight spot to work. "Blast. I'm stuck. If I cut myself out of here, we'll have to replace an inverter. Do we have any extra ones above?"

_Stuck_. Solo shook his head as he scrambled up to come to the aid of his copilot. Glancing out toward the little sliver of Uleare One that could be seen from the docking bay doors, he sighed a little before hunching down to examine Jash's predicament. _Hurry up, Senator, if you don't want to be stuck too_.

* * *

Padmé wasn't sure how long the cramped journey through the ventilation ducts had taken her, but eventually she found herself peering through a mesh grate overlooking a secondary cargo bay converted over into sparse living quarters. Crouching against the bottom of the grate, she peered into the dim interior of the hold and watched the figures milling about below. Most of them were young, some even children as young as Anakin had been on Tatooine all those years ago, women, teenaged boys.

Glancing around briefly at the thin metal walls that encased her, Padmé maneuvered around until she could plant her feet firmly against the grate and give it a solid kick. The motion jarred clear up to her hips, but she wedged her back against the ductwork and kicked out again. It took another pair of hard kicks to loosen the grate enough to press it out and drop it to the floor below.

The children had all scattered away from the area directly below the grate, some hiding behind the roughshod bunks and chairs, some of them now edging forward just a little, innate childish curiosity drawing them toward this unexpected visitor. Padmé wormed her way through the opening she'd created and hung there just brief seconds before letting go and dropping onto the nearest bunk, fortunately unoccupied. She turned around quickly, toward all the young faces upturned toward her.

"What are _you_ doing here?" The voice startled her and Padmé looked up…then she smiled.

"I came to help you, Josep." She hunched down on the bunk, steadying herself with one hand and then jumping lightly to the floor. The other children started to come closer now, some of the younger ones reaching out and touching her lightly, startled when she glanced in the direction of each touch. "To help all of you, if I can."

"Where's the friend you came with…the Jedi?" The young slave demanded, looking up past the senator toward the broken-out grate above. Padmé shifted a little on her feet, the boy's question underscoring the fact that even armed with her blaster, she was painfully alone. She was going to have to think fast.

"He…was detained." She said simply, by way of explanation. "I'm here to…" Padmé looked around the hold briefly as if to find answers in the bulkheads around them. "…scout the situation, find a way to get you out of here."

"Another girl." Josep shook his head a little. "We can't get out. We're on our way to unload the other hold for our master. Besides, we're all tagged. If we come up missing, we're as good as dead."

"There are ways to neutralize slave transmitters." Padmé reassured, despite the fact that she didn't have any scanning or deactivation devices with her. "If we can…" The senator was interrupted by the distinct whine that signaled the drop out of hyperspace and the engagement of the sublight engines. For a moment, no one spoke as Padmé looked into eyes of the little girl that sidled up next to Josep, presumably the slave boy's sister, up close now. She turned back to Josep, her tone determined. "Make me a slave."

"What are you talking about?" The boy scoffed, putting his arm around his little sister protectively.

"I need to be able to get off this ship with you. Get me a tunic." Amidala reached out to grasp the sleeve of the boy's dirty shirt. "And make me look like a slave."

* * *

Anakin took the bowl that handed to him, sniffing cautiously at the contents within; every Force-sense stretched out and probing for any hint of danger. Aunoth settled into the chair opposite him, her own bowl in hand and watched him amusedly a moment before beginning to eat.

"There's nothing in it that will harm you." She assured as she dipped her own utensil into the food and took another bite. "If I had to kill, I'd prefer not to malign my own cooking. Toxins," Aunoth continued pointedly, "aren't my specialty."

Anakin merely regarded Aunoth for a long moment before finally taking a cautious bite of his breakfast. Surprisingly it was very good, and if it was poisoned, he contented himself with the knowledge that his lightsaber was still at hand; he could die knowing he had destroyed his master's killer.

"Not bad." He complimented grudgingly. "And what is your specialty?"

"So suspicious." Aunoth smiled beguilingly, shaking her head slightly. "But I suppose in your duty as a Jedi, you have to be." Anakin nearly felt a ripple of guilt travel up his spine at that, and almost as if being dragged out of him, he replied softly,

"Master Obi-Wan says that we should be objective about people; the Force will guide us away from danger."

"And what does your Force tell you about me?" Aunoth asked him once again, idly. "It would appear, my young Jedi friend, that you did not heed the wise words of your Master. You've regarded me with distrust and anger from the moment we first spoke, last night."

Anakin opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. He couldn't argue with the truth despite the fact that he felt his actions to be justified. Still, even though this woman had given him no real reason not to continue suspecting her as Master Obi-Wan's attacker, he held her gaze and stretched out a questing, probing hand through the Force. What _did_ the Force have to say about this mysterious woman besides the fact that to this point he had not sensed anything dishonest in her statements?

What he felt nearly made him jump from his seat.

"You're not a Force-user." He stated bluntly, as he regarded her with a newfound sense of curiosity. He had never met a true telepath before, even on his varied assignments with Obi-Wan. "What are you?"

"A voice." Aunoth simply shrugged her shoulders a little, as if it was the most natural thing possible to be able to speak with her mind, see things half a galaxy away and delve into the secrets of a total stranger without any discernable connection to the living link that tied them all together. "I have lived longer than your Order has existed, seen marvelous things beyond comprehension…learned secrets that you cannot possibly imagine."

Anakin leaned forward again, picking at his meal anxiously, his appetite suddenly diminished in the face of…of what? A mystery? Certainly that. He looked at Aunoth again, blue eyes lit with a sort of curiosity.

"A voice for what?" He wanted to know. "Or…who?"

"For myself." Aunoth replied cryptically, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "For now, it is enough for you to know that your Force is only a very small part of what I am aware of, despite lacking the necessary midichlorians. Your kind would regard me as immortal, although that is not strictly the case. I simply will outlast your Republic…generations of Jedi and Sith. I was there when the Jedi extinguished the power of the Sith a thousand years ago. I am neither, but I witnessed history that your Order is only barely aware of, things that they should pay more attention to."

"The Sith are rising again." Anakin stated, and Aunoth merely nodded once. The Jedi Padawan reluctantly took another bite of his food before looking up again. "What does it have to do with what happened to Master Obi-Wan?"

"Everything." Those piercing eyes were on him again. "I can show you how to save your Master."

Anakin completely abandoned his breakfast now, his expression hard as stone. He still sensed no deception from Aunoth, but given what he now knew about her, he wasn't taking anything for granted.

"You'd better be telling me the truth." He replied lightly, but beneath it was a razor's edge. Aunoth merely smiled.

"You asked me please to tell you what I know." She said, spreading her hands out before her. "I'm telling you what I know." Anakin squinted a little, as if thinking it over.

"What do I have to do?"

* * *

"Pleasant place." Adi commented lightly as she followed Mace down the ramp of the _Anara_, wrinkling her nose a little in distaste at the variety of odors in the air as they took their first look at Uleare One.

"And this looks like it's the best part of it." Windu added gruffly. The grinding sound of Nhomi laughter followed as Chandel came along after her passengers.

"Not quite what you're used to, I'll bet, hmm Master Jedi?" Chandel's approximation of a smile had the appearance of stretched synthflesh, but that didn't dissuade her from employing it now. "I've never been inside the legendary Jedi Temple, but I imagine this is somewhat less…gracious."

"We've seen worse." Gallia countered; an odd edge to her tone that told Mace that she was speaking of Varix, and Luminara. He glanced at her, but said nothing; it was enough to remember that Luminara was part of the living pulse that beat all around them now, even here. It was enough of a change in demeanor, however, to catch the attention of their pilot. The ever so slight raising of eyebrows the only indication in the placid features of her curiosity.

"I'm sure you have, Master Jedi." Chandel ground out with, Mace realized, a surprising amount of respect and he caught the Nhomi's eye with a short nod of his head. Chandel nodded back. "I'm sure you have."

* * *

A faint, warm glow spilled into the room, the remnants of night swept away by the soft blush of dawn, rendering the glow-rods unnecessary for another day. Shadows started to retreat, melting away from the advancing sunrise, across the room and the bed within it. The bed's occupant turned his head toward the perceived warmth and opened his eyes.

"_Good morning_…" Obi-Wan's voice was a little muffled behind the breather, but it was enough to be heard by whom he addressed, and the slender figure turned toward the sound of his voice. "_That wasn't…a very long...rest_." Jeriya smiled as she approached the bed, reaching down to arrange the pillow more comfortably beneath Obi-Wan's head, her motions gentle and efficient.

"I've never gotten used to sleeping more than a few hours a night. Obuk says that it's my Lherin blood showing up; we never sleep for more than three hours at a time. Besides, I'm a certified jaffa addict. I'm fine." Jeriya leaned down a little, checking the breather's indicators. "It's you we have to…"

Obi-Wan reached up with an effort and clasped the girl's wrist. It caught her attention fully, and she paused in her ministrations to look first at the weak grip he held, and then up into his eyes. The look she gave him was frank but tender, compassionate. Somehow, he managed to conjure up a smile. Kept his hand at her wrist.

"_It…it's…all right. I…know_." Obi-Wan reassured her, all too aware of the notion that this was his deathwatch. The smile faded a little, but the hand remained. "_Anakin…left the…__Temple__…didn't he?_" The Jedi watched as his caretaker hesitated, knew already from the tiny hitch of breath in her throat that he was right. Finally, Jeriya nodded slowly, bringing her other hand up and placing it over his.

"He doesn't want to see you die." She explained carefully, watching Kenobi's expression. Obi-Wan nodded in return now, closing his eyes and allowing his hand to slip from beneath the young Healer's palm.

"_He…won't. Tell him…tell…my Padawan…_"

However, the words refused to come. Obi-Wan felt his throat constrict, the familiar aching desire to have been a better master, more like his _own_ master, rising up within and he shook his head a little. He felt Jeriya's hand smoothing over his forehead, heard vaguely her admonition for him to rest. In the end, he knew, it would be of no consequence but he nodded to her anyway, allowing his thoughts to drift along with the endless memories and regrets of a life too soon to be committed to the tapestry of history. Master Qui-Gon. Master Yoda. Anakin. Himself. All of them wrapped up in the slow haze of dying, and only Jeriya would see the single tear he shed for them all.

* * *

"Whatever you do, keep your head down." Josep's voice followed after her as Padmé worked her way into the battered jumpsuit scrounged from among the slave compartments. "They'll think you're broken…won't look too closely then."

The grungy, tattered material fairly made Padm's flesh crawl; likely, it hadn't seen any cleaning in…maybe years, and the knowledge that its former owner had died in it didn't help. However, it was the only garment available that would disguise her among the slave workers aboard this ship; at least it had ample room to conceal her blaster. Tugging uncomfortably at the filthy collar, she looked over at the slender boy.

"Right. Do you know where they're taking us?"

"Some sort of spacedock; we've unloaded stuff there before, kelde and anzite. Supplies, too." Padmé paused a moment, thinking. Brows tucking into a slight frown, she looked at Josep again.

"Spacedock…like a construction platform?" Padmé watched as slight shoulders rose and fell in a brief shrug.

"I don't know. We aren't allowed out of the loading area." Josep said matter-of-factly. "If you've got any brains you'll stay near the ship with us. You go wandering off and it'll get people killed." There was a slight jolt; the ship touching down within the cargo dock assigned to it. "Sshh, they'll be down here for us any minute. And keep your head down!"

Padmé bowed her head a little, taking the time to smear a little grime from the walls on her face and hands. A construction platform? Out here on the fringes of the Rim? They certainly weren't near any lucrative trading routes or large civilizations to warrant any major shipbuilding or stations. _Sounds like your friends are outfitting an army or something_… Khavi Solo's words echoed in her mind, and with a chill, she realized these children were the 'property' of the Separatist cause. _What are they doing out here_?

There was a harsh grinding sound, metal on metal, followed by rough voices as a handful of the slave-ship's crew entered the hold and barked out orders. Padmé jumped a little, a sudden realization coming with the harsh shouts. _Whatever it is, it got those Jedi killed_.

Head down, breath held, the camouflaged Senator moved along with her companions toward the opened hatchway, toward whatever lay in wait beyond it.

* * *

B'hri Chandel, Adi Gallia had to admit, had been right on one point: Uleare One definitely was _not_ at all like Coruscant or the surroundings of the Jedi Temple. The Temple—and Coruscant itself for that matter—was ancient, solid, steady. By contrast, the mining colony was temporary, fleeting, in constant flux with the availability of ore deposits. Where Coruscant consisted of one generation built on the razed ruins of another, layer after layer, Uleare was a pockmark on the sidelines of time.

A pockmark, Gallia noted with some interest, that their pilot seemed to know extremely well. Gathering her robe a bit more closely about herself, the Jedi kept pace with their makeshift guide while Mace lingered a step or two behind, alert and wary, watching all around them. What might have taken them some time to discover on their own, Chandel knew of already, each worker checkpoint, landing sites, docking crews. One of those stops had ignited the Nhomi's interest and had set them on the rapid course they now pursued into the heart of the makeshift mining community.

The interior was rank. The occupants only a little less so, perhaps a few of them were even more so. Adi stepped into the doorway right behind the Nhomi and felt the immediate ripple of dismay that ran the course of the room from those few denizens scattered throughout. Adi glanced to her left, watching Chandel case the place with a jaded eye. Suddenly the pilot started rapidly forward again, and the two Jedi fell into single-file step behind her.

"Well, well, well." Chandel spoke up cheerfully. "Khavi Solo. Once I saw the _Sunrise_, I knew exactly where I'd find you."

The figure the Nhomi addressed was a rangy Corellian, whose attitude was nearly as prominent as the feet crossed lazily on the table. Without missing so much as a beat, the dark head lifted to look up at his newly arrived company, and a slow grin spread across his features.

"Captain Chandel." Solo replied easily. "Rumor has it you're rubbin' shoulders with royalty and yet here you are, talkin' to me in this disreputable but oh, so lovely establishment." The Corellian raised his glass in salute, eyes alert to any possibility of a blaster, before taking a cautious sip. "To what do I owe the pleasure...?"

Adi Gallia stepped out into full view, her Jedi robes swaying gently with the motion, and to B'hri's left, Mace did the same. The grin melted away.

* * *

Breakfast having been cleared away, Aunoth had turned her graceful intentions to tutoring her temporary pupil, marveling once again at the bright soul…the endangered soul…before her. Offering him a brief smile, she turned serious once again. Leaning back into her chair, she inclined her head thoughtfully as she regarded the young face across from her.

"Tell me, my young Jedi friend…do you still think of what happened on Tatooine?" Her tone was layered with veiled interest, a touch of curiosity, but Anakin sensed that there was direction behind what she asked, and he frowned slightly, uncomfortable. After a long moment, however, he simply nodded. Oddly enough, it was almost a relief to be able to admit it openly to someone. Aunoth nodded a little, lacing her fingers together. "And what does your Force tell you to do about _that_?" She asked, already knowing the answer but needing to define the parameters of her lesson.

Anakin's frown deepened; he was uncertain where this was going, and his training was not a matter for those outside the Order. Still, he had a feeling that there was a point to it, and he exhaled slowly.

"Those feelings…lead to the Dark Side." He said quietly, a troubled note in his own voice. "I've been taught to release those feelings to the Force, to let go of them."

"And have you done so?" Aunoth pressed lightly, her fingers running along the arm of her chair. Anakin was quicker to answer this time, nodding vigorously.

"Yes. Of course. Every…" He halted suddenly, realizing abruptly what he'd been about to say.

"Every day?" Aunoth finished for him, those catlike eyes blinking slowly. "You've never been able to rid yourself of them completely, have you? Or the guilt…or the pain." Anakin's eyes reflected the wounded place that Aunoth had touched, a place that he hadn't even allowed his Master, and only rarely Padmé, to see. Green irises held him pinned to his chair, almost breathless. "You have the ability within you, Anakin, to release them in such a way that they would never trouble you again…in such a manner as to save your Master's life."

Rising, Aunoth moved toward the sleeping area once again, only this time to bend down to a small cubby alongside the bed. Anakin stiffened in the chair, hand straying to the hilt of his lightsaber. When Aunoth turned to face him yet again, however, there was a small device held in the palm of her hand. "Can you tell me what this is?" She inquired as she walked back toward him.

"It's a holocron." Anakin identified immediately. "Pretty old one, too from the looks of it."

"Do you know where it's from?" Aunoth handed the device over to the young padawan with a delicate turn of her hand. Anakin picked it up, looking it over, stretching out his senses. He looked up at her, and she smiled, knowing he knew. "From the Jedi Archives, yes." She confirmed. "In it is a secret your masters have not taught you…the art of grey perception."

"Grey…perception?" Anakin's expression was skeptical at best, and Aunoth's smile deepened.

"It is neither Light nor Dark by definition, but hundreds of years ago the Jedi Councils ruled it to be dangerous and suspect, hiding it away within the deepest layers of the Archives." Aunoth turned away from Anakin to resume her chair.

"How did you get this?" Anakin asked as he cautiously examined the outer casing of the holocron. When no answer was forthcoming, he raised his head from his inspection to focus on his self-appointed teacher.

"There was a time, when your Order was young, that it collaborated with those of us who practiced the grey arts." Aunoth shrugged. "I was one of them. Some of us became Jedi, some became Sith, and a few of us like me simply went our own way. I made sure our history would survive." She nodded toward the battered device in Anakin's hands. "It is what allows me to see what I see, to know things. And it's what will allow you to rescue your Master…to find his attacker…to accomplish what you will until such time as you face the Trials."

Anakin watched warily as the woman rose yet again, this time to glide through the front door. He scrambled to his feet, but the thought touched his mind: _I'm not going far, young one. Your lesson is best taught by history itself_. With that, he turned his attention back to the holocron, looking it over again curiously. What was so dangerous about it that the Council had hidden it away for centuries?

Aware, suddenly, that his time was running short, Anakin set the unit on the table. With one last look over his shoulder, he reached out and activated it.

* * *

Shuffling along through narrow passageways suddenly broke into shuffling along through one of the most massive landing bays Padmé had ever seen. Keeping her head down, mostly, she surreptitiously glanced around the docking area, noting that there was enough room for at least three more large cargo ships of the type they now exited. On her left, Josep frowned tightly and shook his head the tiniest bit.

"Stop with the curiosity already. Tanjah notices you're looking around and he'll come after you for sure." He whispered sharply, and Padmé ducked her head once more. Beneath the lower decks of the cargo vessel, teams were already unloading duraplas crates, the anzite that had been loaded aboard in the clearing on Uleare One. One of the taskmasters moved through the rest of the slaves, shoving them into small workgroups and directing them to aid the unloading process. A fistful of hair, a sudden yank and Padm's head jerked back sharply, bringing her face to face with quite the disgusting looking—and smelling—human being she had ever been in contact with. Hot, foul breath escaped a semi-toothless mouth, lips twisted into a grotesque leer. Padmé tried to pull away, but the fist in her hair gripped tighter, jerking her close again. Her first impulse was to be defiant, to hold her captor's gaze. _Whatever you do, keep your head down_. Against her instincts, Padmé dropped her gaze, looking away from the slaver with what she hoped was the appropriate amount of resignation. She was rewarded with a harsh bark of laughter.

"That's all right, honey. But for now, you crew with them." He turned her sharply and shoved her into a small knot of slaves that made one of the workgroups. "I'll be back for you." Padmé straightened up, regaining her balance. A hand rested briefly at her shoulder and she turned to see that Josep was in the group to which she had been assigned. Silently the boy lifted his eyebrows, and then he grinned.

"Not bad." He whispered. "For a girl."

Their assignment was to take the carts loaded with crates to the far side of the bay, lashing the duraplas containers into antigravity webbing, presumably for transporting the anzite to the worksite itself. Padmé put herself into the work, struggling with another young girl to lift the first crate from the cart. In between, she looked around as much as she dared, trying to get a sense of where she was and what exactly the Separatists were up to out here.

There was a sharp _clang_ at the near side of the bay, not far from the ship, startling everyone into looking up. Padmé glanced around briefly before coming to the aid of the young slave, kneeling beside a dropped case of tools that was obviously too heavy for her to handle on her own.

"Let me help you." Padmé murmured, moving to aid the slender girl in retrieving the fallen tools. Glancing around briefly, she smiled at the girl before looking up…and dropping her jaw in disbelief.

Before her, visible through the force fields of the landing bay, was the hulk of what appeared to be the largest foundry platforms she had ever seen in her life; quite easily, it surpassed the production facility on Geonosis. Already they appeared to contain Separatist craft of every make known to the Republic. _If they're completed, the Separatist forces in this sector will be unstoppable_.

Slowly turning her attention back to the slave girl she had come to help, Padmé knew what must be done.

* * *

"_We've arrived on Uleare One and made contact with the pilot Padawan Skywalker hired to bring him here_." Yoda watched intently as the holographic images of Master Windu and Master Gallia flickered side by side before him, a distressed expression crossing his wizened features. "_It's a smuggling crew, under the command of a Captain Khavi Solo_."

"A smuggler, you say?" Yoda briefly mulled over the implications of that detail. Obi-Wan's wayward apprentice certainly had a talent for the unconventional, not unlike a certain departed Jedi Master who had delivered the boy from the dusty sands of Tatooine a decade ago. "Sense I do, that changed the situation has." The images wavered momentarily as the two Jedi looked at one another before Adi Gallia spoke.

"_Master Yoda, we've questioned Captain Solo and his crew; the precise location of Padawan Skywalker is still unknown, but Solo believes him to be located in the southern district of the mining colony_." The brief pause from the slender Jedi Master was enough to prompt a curious frown from Yoda, who leaned forward on his gimer stick in anticipation.

"More to this there is, hmm?"

"_Yes there is, Master_." Adi confirmed, nodding. "_Senator Amidala accompanied Anakin here…and she is missing also_."

Yoda sat back a moment, absorbing the information and its significance thoughtfully. The immediate implications were for Padmé Amidala's safety as she still had enemies who would see her killed, and also, for the voice she raised in the Senate for the Jedi Order. It was true enough that the Jedi had never relied on the process of politics for their place in the universe, and Yoda himself distrusted the notion of the Alderaanian proposal. However, the outcome of the vote _would_ have an impact on Jedi relations with the greater Republic and in this time of war, friendly voices such as Bail Organa and Padmé Amidala were not to be brushed aside, either. Which begged other questions, but it wasn't the first time the senator had stuck her neck out for Obi-Wan Kenobi either. In the few seconds it took to consider this development, Yoda tapped his gimer stick once.

"Find them and return them here, you must. Upon this, much depends. Go to the Senate, I will."

The transmission faded and Yoda exhaled slowly before making his way from the room. There was a suffocating sensation that much more rested on this than the life of Obi-Wan Kenobi, an urgency that propelled his short steps and fueled his purpose to take the collective Senatorial pulse. It felt like darkness, pressing ever harder on the galaxy.

It felt _hungry_.

* * *

The freighter now in the massive cargo dock was the next of the shipments promised to him by Lord Tyranus, and Nucha Kri supervised the unloading of the ship himself this time, overseeing several dozen of the slaves that had been aboard, bringing with them the crates of anzite. The captain of the ship was a personal friend and the two men talked as they watched the unloading process with a critical eye.

"Well, my friend," The captain, a human whose cargo ships had been the only home he'd ever known, "I'll say this much for your employer; he pays well. Even if he _does_ give me a serious case of the freaks." Despite the conversation with Lord Tyranus earlier, Kri laughed, a short, nervous bark.

"You might think better of it if you were here awhile." The foreman replied, waving over a pair of young men laboring with one of the duraplas crates to start a fresh stack. "I'm beginning to think he's going to want more from me than just this battle station by the time we're done." Now it was the cargo captain's turn to chuckle, and he shook his head.

"I've always thought your crew was a little more superstitious than your average deep-space pit-hoppers. Next you'll be telling me stories about some bloodless soul-sucking creature bent on zapping you out of existence or some ridiculous thing."

"Sshh!" Kri hissed now, looking at his friend with a mixture of annoyance and apprehension. "He's a Sith, you idiot. I don't know much about his kind but perhaps they can do just that."

"And you, Nucha, worry too much about…"

"What is it?" The exotic foreman laid aside the electronic manifest and joined the freighter captain across the raised observation platform, glancing at the man briefly before following his interested gaze downward. A small group of young slaves, perhaps in their teens, was lashing together two of the stacks, but it was apparent from their owner's demeanor that one of them at least had caught his attention. "What is it?" Kri repeated curiously.

"Look. The one in the middle. Not very attentive to her work, I'd say." The freighter captain slipped his hand into his pocket and produced a small keypad not larger than the palm of his hand. Touching a few small keys, he raised the device toward the group and pressed another button. A chorus of young screams rose shrilly in the air as the young ones dropped their knees. At his friend's distasteful look, the captain shrugged. "I don't employ them often, but they do prove useful for discipline. Look." He motioned again below, and Nucha looked down. "She's still standing. I'd wager a guess that I was right in suspecting she's not really mine. Valo! Tinker!"

"Bring her here." A cold, calculating tone spoke behind them; foreman and captain both turned sharply around to see the stately Lord Tyranus standing directly behind them. Fear rippled through them both; a thin smile appeared on the dark lord's face. Nucha Kri glanced at his friend, and the cargo captain nodded shortly, turning to motion the two older boys.

"Up here, Valo." He commanded. The two crewmen who had snatched the girl from among her companions complied, dragging the struggling slave between them up to the observation platform before throwing her roughly to her knees in front of the Sith Lord. With a slight cry of indignation, the girl lunged to her feet—and found herself standing toe to toe with the last person she had expected to see.

"Dooku!"

"Senator Amidala. What a pleasant surprise, seeing you here like this."


	24. Unlikely Alliances

I'm baaaack! Amazingly enough I have not completely dropped off the face of the earth…the release of Episode III has reignited the enthusiasm of my muses. Enjoy!

TWENTY-FOUR

It all made sense, now.

Anakin drew in a slow, deep breath as the holocron switched off, and he shook his head slowly in amazement. It was all so _simple_. Boredom. Disappointment. Shock. Pleasure. Amusement. Anticipation. Curiosity. None light, none dark, but all with their own sense of power. A sense of power that quite simply went untapped by most Jedi that Anakin had ever known. It had been a startling revelation that light and dark were so…_restrictive_. Each had their boundaries, only so far that they could travel in opposite directions.

Applied as a viewing lens onto any given situation, they were feelings that would allow him to act apart from the attachments of lightness or darkness, Jedi or Sith. Tatooine, viewed through a perspective of grey, was no longer painful. A heady freedom rushed in as Anakin allowed himself to file the Sandpeople in his consciousness as a footnote to failing his mother, rather than a dangerous failure in its own right. Closing his eyes, he was finally free of the screams.

When the blue eyes reopened, however, he placed his hands on the table as if physically steadying himself would gain him a better grip on this new ability. Anakin gazed at the holocron thoughtfully. Grey perception, as Aunoth called it, was simply the power of rationalization shot through with exceptional mental talent. _No wonder_, Anakin thought to himself idly, _it had been so easy for some of them to become either Jedi or Sith. It would only be a short step from grey into darkness or light_. As he sat there, contemplating what he'd just learned from the holocron, he wondered what Master Obi-Wan would think of the old alliances between the Order and these ancient telepaths.

"You can keep your promise now, Jedi Skywalker." Aunoth's voice said calmly behind him. "It's the power of dispassion…neither anger nor peace. Simply freedom to ask your mind to do a thing…_and it does it_."

"What do you know about my promises?" Anakin asked carefully, turning to hold the holocron out to her. Aunoth glided over and accepted it from him delicately.

"You promised your mother you would not fail again. You promised Senator Amidala that you would learn to stop people from dying. You have the power at your disposal now to keep those promises. Project your thoughts outward, Anakin, through the grey vision…ask your mind who your master's killer is." She watched as Anakin hesitated.

"You've been watching me." He challenged, now that he knew _how_ she knew these things.

"For a long time now, yes." Aunoth nodded, a faint smile touching her lips. "My curiosity had to be satisfied."

_An interesting answer_, Anakin thought idly. Sandy brows rose slightly above blue eyes.

"And was it?" His question was at first answered by soft laughter.

"Let's just say that…your potential had my attention." Aunoth replied archly, her hand waving lightly to dismiss the subject. "Now it's up to you." The exquisite eyes took on an almost feral look. "Tell me where he is, my Jedi friend. It is, after all, what you set out to do. What you swore to your Master that you would do."

Just that quickly, the flash in Anakin's mind was the image of Master Obi-Wan, deathly still on his sickbed, a breather unit aiding his weakened lungs as Aunoth had suggested earlier. Anakin's throat tightened as the image melted away as fast as it had appeared; a sudden and savage reminder of what was at stake.

Closing his eyes tightly, Anakin pushed aside all else and gathered the grey mists to himself, calling out into the vast openness for the one answer he had come here to find. Blue eyes opened moments later, gazing sightlessly past the telepath into the infinite corridor, the wrinkle in time where future melted down into the present.

From the cold fog of dispassion, as Aunoth had put it, he could see his Master's attacker, felt a ripple of disgust as he sensed something familiar about him. Instinctively he called on the Force to enhance his memory, going back to Obi-Wan's poisoning. Instead of the familiar warmth, it was the grey twilight that brought to mind the crewmember, the Force-silent Dhanir who had been unreadable aboard the _Moonrise Trader_ during their ascent from Coruscant. The blue eyes narrowed in recognition and concentration.

The narrow corridor of grey expanded enough to tell him what he wanted to know.

"Ich'im." The name fell from his lips as if he had simply reached into the man and pulled the knowledge out. "His name is Ich'im...he's on Jastas Prime." A chill shot straight down Anakin's spine as he realized the rest of his answer. "_And he's not alone_." Aunoth turned away from him gracefully, as if uninterested, returning the holocron to its place within her quarters. Glancing back over her shoulder, she graced Anakin with the hint of a smile.

"Is his companion unfamiliar to you?"

It was something less than a taunt, but was enough to stab at Anakin's heart with a brief apprehension. Still second nature to touch the Force first, he stretched out, seeking the meaning behind the telepath's words. Strangely enough, the Force was silent, not offering a look into either past or future, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Was it his imagination or did he hear her soft laughter? _Fine_. Anakin called upon the grey vision, gathering it to himself as simply as breathing…a frightening concept really but something told him he didn't have the time to contemplate it. The curling mists seemed to part aside like a curtain of rain and the face that turned toward him held a mirthless smile in a visage of dark composure. _Dooku_.

The vision presented to him was enough to steal his breath, and he lurched to his feet awkwardly, the chair tipping back with the force of his motion.

"_Padmé_…"

"It would appear…" Aunoth murmured smoothly as her pupil's expression hardened into something dangerous, "…that our time together is at an end, young Skywalker."

* * *

"Didn't I tell ya we should'a gotten outta here?" Jash grumbled as he pushed past Khavi and headed toward the cockpit, barely glancing back toward Khavi's company disdainfully.

"You'll have to ignore Jash." Solo shrugged a little, not _quite_ apologizing for his co-pilot's rudeness. "Jedi aren't exactly our usual customers." He spread his hands a little, indicating the modest hold. "I give you the _Silver Sunrise_. She's not exactly what you'd call a pleasure ship but she punches a pretty good hole in space."

"Don't be so modest, Solo." B'hri Chandel remarked as she entered the hold just behind the two Jedi Knights that she had ferried to this point. "Especially in front of a pair of Jedi." She glanced at Mace with what passed as a slight smile for her species. "This bucket is one of the fastest ships out of the Corellian merchant fleet that Khavi…acquired and…shall we say, modified for his own business purposes." She nodded her head in Solo's direction. "You name it, I've seen him outrun, outshoot or outsmart it."

Chandel crossed over to the set of jump chairs and lounged in one, looking from smuggler to Jedi and back again with a certain amount of satisfaction.

"At any rate," Khavi interjected. "If you're thinking about recruiting me to go off on some sort of internal womprat hunt, forget it." He folded his arms defiantly across his chest and leaned against the wall. "I've told you all I know, and this is where I get off."

"Just what makes you think that's what we want from you?" Adi Gallia asked lightly, a slow deliberate pause as she walked over to the Corellian pilot and folded her own arms in mock imitation of Khavi's defensive posture. "You were chartered for round-trip passage and that's all we ask of you. Complete your charter. You'll just have…a couple of extra passengers on board for the return trip." Azure eyes held Khavi's gaze, and while it wasn't actually a mind-trick—the Corellian was too strong-willed for that—there were few who could resist the Jedi's persuasive gaze.

"And if I do…?" Solo prompted slowly, meeting Gallia's gaze lazily.

"Whatever they were paying you, we'll add…say…two?" Solo's eyebrows rose skeptically. "Four. Four thousand credits."

"You're dealing with the riff-raff of the galaxy now, Master Jedi." Khavi said slowly, a sort of lopsided smile gracing his features. "You sure your Council will like that?"

"Captain Solo…" Adi leaned closer now, boring those eyes into the smuggler until he was uncomfortable enough to uncross his arms and shift his stance. "You are dealing _with_ the Jedi Council." She motioned toward Mace as well and she smiled in satisfaction, as the self-assured pilot was definitely unnerved. "I'm pretty sure we're quite fine with it."

Moving gracefully away from the pilot now, Adi met the steady gaze of Mace Windu.

"I'm sure," Mace murmured softly out of Solo's earshot, "that Master Yoda will just love paying off a smuggler." Adi's expression became rather amused.

"What? You don't have four thousand on you?"

* * *

"_Master, I have news_."

The small holographic image of Count Dooku appeared before him, and in his private quarters, Darth Sidious received the coded and scrambled message impassively, although the report in question was a rather interesting one.

"Senator Amidala…" Sidious considered aloud, a thoughtful sort of tone entering his calculating voice. It was not the first time the young senator from Naboo had done something he had not expected of her. She was beginning to become as annoying as the Jedi she sought to defend on the Senate floor. Still, the appearance of Anakin's "secret" wife, for that was what Sidious knew her to be, provided him with a unique bargaining chip in the turning of the young Jedi apprentice. With Obi-Wan in one hand, and Padmé Amidala in the other, there would be nothing to keep Sidious from claiming the young one as his own. "Have Ich'im take her to the surface. There he will await my instruction concerning Senator Amidala's…future."

"_Yes, Master_." Dooku answered smoothly, before reporting on the progress of the Death Star. Satisfied that Dooku had the project well in hand, Sidious allowed a wicked glint of pleasure to grace his features.

"Excellent, Lord Tyranus. Now…we are prepared to launch our war in full upon the Core of the galaxy. Marshal our forces in full, strike from the Outer-Rim, and work your way into the Core systems. The Jedi will not be able to counter such a massive front, and the war's course will open the way for us, as I have foreseen."

"_It shall be as you say, my Master_."

Dooku's image flickered out and Sidious turned aside from the protected hologram generator as it slid back into its hiding place. Slowly over several moments, the darkness seemed to be almost put aside as Chancellor Palpatine gathered himself and prepared to return to his private offices in the Senate building. With the launching of all-out war now, the Republic would be easily guided into hatred for the Jedi Order and all they represented; there was nothing like misery and suffering to turn well-meaning people into scapegoats. The Jedi would make such lovely scapegoats. With the Order permanently out of the way, there would be nothing to stop him from ascending to the power he so desired.

As Palpatine slipped into his offices, there was a signal at his desk and he picked up his step to intercept it. A deep frown creased his features as he realized what it was. Yoda! The meddling green troll was in his outer offices requesting audience. Drawing in a deeper breath, Palpatine squared his shoulders and allowed the full return of his "Chancellor" persona. "Send him in." He finally ordered, and the doors slid open to admit the tiny Jedi. Palpatine hid his disgust at the centuries-old Master, simply spreading his hands in an open gesture of welcome, and taking the seat behind his desk. "Master Yoda. What brings you to my office at this time of day?" He inquired politely.

"Speak with you I must." Yoda prefaced cautiously as he approached the chancellor's desk. "Know, I do of the Senate debate on the role of the Jedi in this war." Palpatine's eyes narrowed slightly, but he refused to let his irritation bleed off into the air around him; he wouldn't give the diminutive Jedi the pleasure.

"Of course, Master Yoda. Please, take a seat." Palpatine offered graciously, inclining his head a little. "I assume you speak of the motion on the Senate floor regarding the drafting of Jedi into the armed forces of the Republic."

"Hmm…" Yoda regarded Palpatine with some distrust; ever since Geonosis the Council had kept a close eye on the proceedings of the Senate, and the aged Master's perception of the Chancellor's movements were deceptive at best, downright manipulative at worst, but there had been no true proof that could be used to lever an accusation at him. "Indeed, it is." The green-skinned Jedi made his way into the chair across from Palpatine, and sharp blue eyes did not back down from the Chancellor's frank stare.

"The measure has been proposed by the Senator from Alderaan." Palpatine said emotionlessly, simply watching his adversary warily. "It has gained some support among the Senate rank and file…but it has not yet been put to a final vote."

Yoda gauged the Chancellor's answer, thinking it over. If the measure had not yet been voted on, that meant there could potentially still be considerable support for the Jedi in the Senate. Perhaps Amidala's absence would not hurt the vote as much as he thought it might, but he was unwilling to gamble on it just yet. The wizened face lifted a bit, and those blue eyes gazed piercingly at the Supreme Chancellor.

"Uncertain, it is what the best course for the Republic will be." Yoda said guardedly, unwilling to reveal his own position on the measure, or the vote. Palpatine hedged a bit as well, long fingers curling around the armrests of his chair. "Serve the Republic, the Order will." That was enough of a statement all by itself, a declaration of intention that no matter which way the vote turned, the Jedi Order would continue to uphold its principles. Palpatine recognized it for what it was, and he smiled thinly.

"Of course." The Chancellor acknowledged with a gracious—more gracious than he actually felt—nod of his head. "I would expect no less of you." Palpatine steepled his fingers, allowed his expression to take on something a little kinder. "How is Master Kenobi faring? I have heard nothing recently regarding his illness."

Yoda frowned just briefly at that before making an answer; while asked earnestly enough, it seemed a rather odd—and deft—shift of topic. Inclining his head a little, the diminutive Jedi folded his hands over his gimer stick.

"Deteriorated, his condition has." Yoda finally answered, despite his uneasy regard for Palpatine, and a soft sigh escaped him. "Leave us soon, I fear he will." Across from him, Palpatine's expression took on a distressed sort of air, and the Chancellor leaned forward on the desk.

"The Healers can do nothing for him?" Palpatine put on just the right balance of concern and sorrow, although neither were honestly present. "Such a loss…to the Order and the Republic…and to me personally." Palpatine shook his head slightly. "After all, Master Kenobi has been a great aid to my homeworld in the past."

Yoda regarded the Chancellor uncertainly. While it was certainly true that Obi-Wan's death would be a trauma to the Order, and his service to the Republic in recent years had been invaluable…there was something not quite…sincere in Palpatine's demeanor. At the last, however, there was only one response the Jedi Master could make and still keep his cards close.

"Agree with you, I do."

* * *

Jeriya turned saddened eyes toward the Coruscanti skyline once again as she had so often during this quiet vigil. The stark contrast between the bustle of living on one side of the window and the stillness of dying on the other almost made it appear as if the window itself was the dividing line…if only Obi-Wan could be on the other side of that window...

Jeriya shook her head at herself just slightly, drawing a slow breath. She knew that she shouldn't have made this battle for Obi-Wan's life so personal; when Kenobi joined the Force, he would take a part of her with him. Turning slightly from the window, she looked back at the motionless Jedi. The periods of unconsciousness were becoming longer, his waking moments disconnected and disoriented. Soon he simply would not wake up.

The slender healer felt tears sting her eyes as she left the window and drew close to the sickbed, smoothing her palm over Obi-Wan's pale forehead. There was no response, no sound save raspy breathing. His lungs were worsening, weakening and his heartbeat becoming erratic.

"It's not fair, Master." She whispered softly, not looking up as she sensed her former master enter the room. Jeriya knew as well as anyone that she couldn't win them all, knew that there would be some lives that just couldn't be saved. As she looked up at him, however, Obuk was struck by the vulnerability visible in his former student, and his expression grew softer. The older healer crossed the room and placed a slender hand upon her shoulder. Jeriya had never taken to losing kindly, even when she knew it was inevitable.

"Let me take over here, my Padawan." Obuk said gently, yet firmly. "You've done all that you can." Jeriya looked up now and she shook her head emphatically.

"My place is here, Master. I…can't leave him now." Slim shoulders hunched a little beneath her former mentor's touch. "He's fought so hard. I know it's a fight he can't win but…I started with him. I'll finish with him." She brushed her hand along the ginger hairline once again. "I can't abandon him now."

Obuk nodded in agreement; he recognized her intention and understood it.

"Then, I will stay with you both." Obuk said quietly. He turned his gaze to Obi-Wan; the quiet labored breathing so at odds with the energetic young Padawan, the purposeful Jedi Knight that he had come to know. Qui-Gon Jinn had had his hands full with this one at times, but he had become a true Jedi. Placing graceful fingers against the unconscious Jedi's temple, Obuk stretched out through the Force. An overwhelming sense of tiredness met the healer's gentle inquiry, Obi-Wan's body—and spirit—beginning at last to give up the fight. A fight he had stubbornly clung to for his padawan's sake but now that it seemed clear that Anakin would not return, Obi-Wan, ever the realist, had resigned himself to his fate. "Oh, Obi-Wan." Obuk murmured affectionately, mournfully.

_The bacta tanks were lined up in neat rows, the chamber quiet and for the most part, empty._

_Except for a single tank. And for a pair of Jedi…one inside, and one outside of the tank._

_"Qui?" Obuk said softly as he joined them._

_"Forget it." Qui-Gon Jinn had replied shortly. "I'll sleep when he wakes up._"

That had been a vigil, too, the Jedi Master and the Master Healer staying at it until Obi-Wan returned to them at last. Obuk remembered how very relieved Qui-Gon Jinn had been when those blue-grey eyes had finally fluttered open after three days of floating in the bacta tank and another six of lying on a bed in the Ward. Why that particular incident should surface in his mind, Obuk wasn't certain, except possibly for Jeriya displaying the same stubbornness Qui-Gon had all those years ago in staying at Kenobi's side.

Instinctively, the long slender fingers slipped around Obi-Wan's hand. The poisoned Jedi might be never be aware of his touch, trapped inside his failing body, but Obuk was determined that somehow…Obi-Wan would know that he would not die alone.

"No, my Padawan…" He finally agreed very softly, "…it is not fair at all."

* * *

Padmé surveyed her surroundings and took a deep breath, wincing a little from the manacles biting into her skin. It hadn't taken long, she observed, for Dooku to find another bodyguard in the wake of Jango Fett, or so it appeared. The man who had shoved her into this little cell was taller than Dooku by some two or three inches, eyes as black as coal and strong. There had been no resisting his grip on her arms.

"You have never looked so…delightful, Senator." Padmé stiffened a bit before turning her head to offer her captor an icy glare. Dooku simply raised his eyebrows slightly, and for all her formal training in the public arena, Padmé had to admit to a sudden urge to wipe that polished demeanor from his face.

"Slavery is not delightful." She bit out sharply, and was mildly surprised when Dooku actually seemed to react to that, albeit ever so slightly. It had been such a brief shift in the smooth manner that Padmé wasn't certain that she had seen it at all before the mask was back in place. "Betrayal is not delightful." She pressed, and now, the former Jedi's expression hardened into something darker. "It is treason."

"Betrayal is such a relative term." Dooku replied smoothly, but his eyes glittered with something…hard and dark. "What is betrayal, Milady Senator, if not the decay and corruption festering in the heart of the Republic?" Dooku gave her a withering look. "Perhaps you should look more closely at how you define treason, Senator Amidala." Padmé held her tongue; there was no further use in trading barbs with the cloaked Separatist leader and whatever her fate, she would face it with the same calm, impassive face she had worn in the Geonosis arena. "Nothing more to say, Senator?" Dooku prompted condescendingly, and when he received no response, simply shrugged. "Very well. I suppose I should be polite enough to take my leave of you, as I will not see you again."

Padmé lifted her chin, a bit of defiance; it drew a genuinely amused smile from Dooku.

"Murder," Padmé enunciated icily, "is not delightful."

"I shall miss our little sparring matches." Dooku dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. "Your spirit could have been a great asset to our cause. No matter. Allow me to introduce you to my companion, Ich'im. He will accompany you to the surface."

Padmé was slightly surprised. Take her to the planet's surface and not kill her outright? Something about that set off alarms in her mind and she glanced from Dooku to Fett's replacement and back again. _Bait_. Her heart lurched sharply as she realized that she was being used to draw out her companions—Anakin and Khavi Solo's crew. It was too obvious that she would not have been out here in the Outer Rim on her own, and Dooku meant to protect his operation out here and kill them all.

"After you." Ich'im said rather coldly, grasping Padmé's arm and pushing her roughly ahead of him, a blaster held at her back.

"Goodbye, Senator Amidala." Dooku said as she left the cell with the assassin behind her. "It has been a pleasure, as always."

* * *

Anakin raced along the streets of the mining colony; assisted by the Force he was nearly a blur of motion in the afternoon sun. There were few to see him, even in broad daylight as most were either working in the mines or sleeping after working the night shifts or various intoxications.

"We have to take off!" He shouted even before he'd quite run all the way up the ramp of the _Silver Sunrise_, anxiety tingeing his voice. "Khavi! Raise the ship, we have to…" Anakin came to a screeching halt in the common area of the ship, as his worst nightmare seemed to unfold before him.

"Have to…what?" Adi Gallia asked. She sat directly across from where Anakin now stood, speechless.

"Padawan Skywalker?" Mace Windu's voice spoke next, drifting into the common area from a nearby gantry and Anakin swallowed back a rising irritation.

"They _sent you after me_?" Anakin bristled a bit, before drawing a deep breath. "We have to leave Uleare One…" He hesitated a moment, before plunging ahead. "Count Dooku's on Jastas Prime." He sighed softly. "He's behind the assassination attempt on Master Obi-Wan and he's captured Senator Amidala."

The two Jedi Masters traded curious gazes before Mace walked further into the compartment and settled, unperturbed, into one of the jump chairs.

"_We_ never should have been here in the first place, Anakin." For all the calm control, there was a note of irritation in Windu's voice, and Anakin sighed softly.

"I know I disobeyed the Council's order…"

"You've done more than that, Padawan." Adi Gallia said softly, but pointedly. Those azure eyes held Anakin captive, and the Jedi apprentice shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other.

"…but I couldn't sit there and just watch Master Obi-Wan die." Anakin finished his sentence, not quite defiantly but definitely with an edge of upset. "I know I can save him. But every moment we stay here, is another moment Master Obi-Wan doesn't have, and neither does Senator Amidala. You know Dooku will kill her." That, at least there was no arguing with; Mace exhaled slowly but did not break his steady gaze upon the wayward apprentice.

"Very well, we will go to Jastas Prime and rescue the Senator." Mace pronounced at last, with what Anakin thought was interminable slowness. The Jedi Master rose now and came closer, his imposing presence felt as well as seen. "This is not finished, Anakin." Anakin drew in a deep, frustrated breath but knew enough at least to hold his tongue for the time being, simply bowing his head in deference as he drew his robe closer about himself.

"I understand, Master Windu." He dared to glance briefly in Master Gallia's direction; the graceful Jedi wore a troubled expression. Anakin couldn't tell what was in those azure eyes and he didn't want to ask.

"Wait just a minute." Khavi Solo spoke up now, one hand waving once. "You Jedi didn't say anything about a detour. You," He pointed at Adi. "Said that all I had to do was complete my charter."

"Have a heart, Solo." B'hri Chandel smirked a bit, inasmuch as it was possible for her to do such a thing. "You've already extorted more than your fair share of credits from them. Four thousand more, to be exact." The Nhomi smuggler motioned gracefully toward the Jedi Masters. "Besides, I hardly think you want to be responsible for the killing of a Republic Senator, hmm?"

Khavi sighed softly, raking fingers through his dark hair. He didn't like the position he was in, but at least he was being paid decently to traipse the galaxy with a trio of Jedi Knights. "Oh, have it your way. Jash! Get up here! We're raising the ship!" The pilot headed for the cockpit, grumbling lightly under his breath.

B'hri Chandel laughed outright now, a gravelly, joyless sound really, but it passed for mirth among her kind. She rose from her place, offering Mace and Adi a smart salute.

"My work here is done." She announced. "Good luck finding the Senator." Chandel paused at the hatch, however, and glanced back at Adi with another of those almost-but-not-quite smiles. "You owe me a huge favor. Huge."

With that, the smuggler departed, presumably to take her cargo of smuggled rum and likely spice to the festivities on Vahqun. Anakin had to admit, he hadn't expected his masters to resort to the same methods he had taken, and he grudgingly gave them credit for their unorthodox tracking skills.

"How did you know?" He finally asked after Jash had pushed his way past on the way to the cockpit. Anakin tucked his hand inside the sleeves of his robe, almost in unconscious imitation of Obi-Wan, as if he could somehow make himself less noticeable.

Mace sighed softly. This would have to wait until they rescued Senator Amidala; it would not do to have this distraction during such a mission. _If Dooku has not killed her already, that is_. He motioned dismissively as though the how and what that had brought him and Adi here was unimportant.

"We will take that up later, Anakin." He said firmly. "We have a rescue mission to concentrate on."

Anakin knew that was true, but there was one more thing he must know.

"How is Master Obi-Wan?" That drew a more sympathetic look from Windu, despite whatever irritation the Jedi Master might feel over Anakin's impulsive actions. Anakin felt his heart clench in his chest. "_Tell me_." He said urgently.

"He is not doing well." Adi said softly. "As of my last communication with the Temple, Master Obuk said that his system is starting to shut down; the toxin has made his heart and lungs weak, and Master Obuk feels it will not be long now before he slips into coma."

Time was running out. Anakin felt as if his breath were freezing in his chest as he gasped; all he had risked, all he was _still_ risking, was going to be for nothing. Obi-Wan was much closer to death than Anakin realized. They could not possible return to Coruscant in time to save him, could they?

Could they…

Quickly, the apprentice sprinted into the cockpit.

"How fast will this thing fly?" He demanded, as Khavi and Jash were just raising the ship. Through the canopy, Anakin could see the desolate rock that was Uleare One beginning to drop away beneath them. He would not miss the place, that much was certain.

"Point three-two-six over lightspeed." Jash replied sharply, an expression of disdain crossing his features. He was becoming less and less patient with their Jedi 'cargo.'

"I can get it to point four." Anakin said confidently, drawing in a deep breath.

"What do you think you're…?"

"Point four?" Khavi interrupted his copilot with a pausing gesture, glancing back at Anakin. "You sure about that?"

"You're running a standard four-over-five conversion package, right?" Anakin asked, and at Solo's impressed nod, continued, "All you need is an adjustment in the hyperdrive for direct conversion from the fuel cells. You'll be able to outrun any capital ship that puts up a look."

_That_ had Solo's attention. "Take her out-system, Jash and line her up on the nav computer for a course to Jastas Prime." The smuggler rose from the pilot's seat and followed Anakin from the cockpit. "You do that for me and I'll knock off the extra credits your friends out there were going to pay me."

Both Jedi Masters looked up at that last comment as the two walked back into the common area.

"Show me the way." Anakin said, motioning before him, and he started to list the tools he would need to complete the adjustment he intended. The Jedi Padawan glanced back at his masters. "Don't worry." He said persuasively. "I'll have us on Jastas Prime in no time. Save you some credits, too."

With that, Skywalker disappeared into the engine compartment, leaving his elders to shake their heads slightly and wonder what the Council would do with him.

* * *

Bail Organa had rarely been within the halls of the Jedi Temple; there had been little cause for him to travel from the Senate or his own private offices to the ancient edifice. The spires rose majestically as they always had upon the horizon of the Senate District; a reminder, Bail always thought, of the peace the Jedi were supposed to protect.

The senator had to admit that he knew very little about the ways of the Jedi until recently, when the recent unrest in the politics of the Senate toward the Order disturbed him enough to look into it. There seemed to be a subtle hatred breeding among the galactic representatives and the greater it swelled, the more anxious Organa became.

He had taken it upon himself to learn more about the Jedi Order, as much as he was able at least, and it had led him to believe strongly that to abandon the Jedi or worse, dismantle the Order, would be a fatal mistake for the Republic. He had constructed his proposal both as a means of protecting the Jedi the best he could while creating the best possible use of the clone troops in the event that Dooku had more up his sleeve than just the scattered battles fought thus far.

Now, however, none other than Master Yoda himself had summoned him to the Jedi Temple and Bail had to admit he was highly curious as to the reason behind the request. He would not turn down the ancient Jedi Master's invitation, but the senator had to admit also that he was slightly anxious as well. He did not know what to expect of such a forbidding, ancient, overwhelming place as the Temple of the Jedi Order.

The wide, broad steps led up into an equally broad entryway, flanked by tall pillars and a massive entryway. At one time, there had been thousands upon thousands of Jedi who walked these halls, he knew, but now there were so few that the vast structure actually had closed areas that were not in use.

As he came into the Temple and was swallowed up into the grand vastness of it, a young human boy, approximately nine, or ten years of age, who bowed to him seriously before straightening and looking him right in the eye, met Bail.

"Greetings, Senator Organa." The boy's voice was clear and steady, not nervous at all, but very polite and formal. "Master Yoda sent me to meet you and show you the way."

"Greetings." Bail smiled slightly at the formality. "What is your name, young one?"

"I am Tulin." The boy said just as clearly, and Bail nodded. "This way, please."

Organa followed the young Jedi student silently, unable to resist looking around the Temple halls, awed by the gracefulness, design and craft of the place. Various Jedi passed them by; some he knew, some he had never met. A clan of younglings trooped along behind their Jedi instructor, some of them giving the senator openly curious looks, and he smiled slightly. The boy ahead of him paused now, and turned to look at him, and Bail stopped just a pair of paces before the doorway Tulin indicated.

"Thank you, Tulin."

The young Jedi bowed respectfully before turning away to pursue other duties, and Bail stepped into the chamber, finding it to be a small reception room of sorts, a few scattered chairs and tables, a pair of small sculptures memorializing great Masters of the past. In one of the chairs, the diminutive form of Master Yoda waited for him.

"Senator Organa." Yoda greeted him politely. "Good it is that accepted my invitation you have."

"Master Yoda." Bail inclined his head slightly in greeting as well. "I must admit that it was with some surprise that I received your coded transmission."

"Ask you to forgive me, I do, Senator, but necessary I fear it was." Yoda motioned graciously with one gnarled hand to a nearby chair. "Join me, please. Speak to you I must." Bail did not even try to hide the expression of curiosity that graced his features as he settled into a nearby chair and leaned forward.

"I would hear what you have to say, Master Jedi."

"Disturbing changes in the Senate there have been." Yoda prefaced, and after a hesitant moment, Organa nodded slightly. "Hear your opinions, I would."

The Senator drew in a slow, careful breath.

"I do not know if I should…"

"Speak freely here you may." Yoda reassured; a slight nod of his wizened head. "Within this room alone are your words heard. Brought you here, I have for sense I do that trustworthy, you are."

"I agree with you." Bail said finally, but his voice was still careful. "The Senate is treading very dangerous ground, I believe, in allowing the Chancellor to take these executive powers." He watched Yoda carefully, a bit of anxiety in his features. "I fear the threats this war represents have the Senators driven to distraction and Chancellor Palpatine is making good use of it."

"A very shrewd politician, the Chancellor is." Yoda agreed, and he leaned forward a bit as well. "Heard, I have, that proposed bringing the Jedi into this war as part of the Army of the Republic you have."

"No offense intended, Master Jedi," Bail defended himself, a concerned edge in his voice. "But I fear that the Order has kept itself far too removed from these recent events. There are Senators who mean to dismantle the Jedi Order with restrictive measures that would effectively silence you as a voice in these troubled times."

"More about this proposal, tell me." Yoda said slowly and deliberately. "Decide I must what course of action to the Council I will present." A stunned moment of silence passed between the two beings; Bail had not considered that the Jedi might not support this resolution, and to realize much-needed support from the Order itself was important. Leaning forward, the Alderaanian Senator began to explain his ideas.


End file.
